A Red Sun Rises
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: The world is full of evil - children get sick and die, people suffer their entire lives, people we love the most cause us the most pain... A standard stalker case ends up revealing a secret that will change the BAU forever.
1. Prologue

_A red sun rises, blood has been spilt this night.  
- J.R.R. Tolkien_

*****

He restlessly scrubbed his hands over his face. The screeching of tires rang through his head, sirens wailed, distant voices screamed and sobbed, his own heart pounded in his ears. Empty eyes stared back at him, life escaping before his very eyes as he could do nothing but look on in horror.

He stared at his hands as if they were not his own, as if they were instruments of horror wielded by him against his will. They memory of others' blood still coated his hands, making them feel heavy and damp. He felt like MacBeth as he scrubbed relentlessly at the ghost of the warm, sticky liquid. _Will all great Neptune's oceans wash this blood clean from my hands? No, this my hands will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green ones red._

Each time he felt as helpless as the last. Each time was as horrible as the first. Each time he relived it every terrible detail tormented him with vicious clarity. Each time he felt himself slipping a little farther out of reach.

He didn't know what to feel, how to react. Sadness? Anger? Guilt? It was all of those things and yet, none of them seemed right. He pounded his fist against the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Meaghan James, David James, Alice James, Jessica Barnes, Janelle Harmen, Nick Baker, Michelle Cook." A list of names. Names of six people he'd never met and one he'd known very well. Names of people he'd watched die. Names of people that weighed on his conscience every hour of every day.

Guilt burned away at his insides like he had swallowed a vial of acid. There was nothing he could do to assuage it, nothing that could make the burden any lighter, nothing that could ever make it go away. More than anything, he wished he could somehow cure the necrosis eating away at his soul, some way to repay Charon for rowing all those poor souls across the River Styx. But karma refused to let any repentance come easily, and rightly so.

Outside, cars ferried people to and from their suburban homes as they went about their suburban lives. The sun rose and fell. Children grew up and adults grew old.

Time went on. Things changed.

But inside these walls, nothing ever did. The guilt never lessened. The pain never healed. The memories never faded. Each day was just as difficult to get through. Everyday it was just as hard to live with himself.

Frozen in time, everything stayed the same. A living juxtaposition, a flesh and blood irony.

The world kept turning without him. And try as he might to break free, to run after it, to punch through into reality, the here and now, he was stuck on a mime's treadmill, watching dismayed as little by little life slipped a little further out of his grasp.

The pain now burning in his knuckles was oddly calming; he shut his eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, flexing and unflexing his fingers. He tried to clear his mind, to force out everything currently raising his blood pressure; hardly a task bent on success, seeing as it was always floating just beyond reach, waiting to explode and ruin everything.

He opened up the file waiting on his coffee table, something to occupy his mind, to balance the scales. But he hardly had the chance to get more than a sentence into it before there was a sharp, insistent knocking at the front door.

"Hey slowpoke! Were you planning on coming _today_? Or did you forget we have work to do?" came the muffled shouts, half joking, half annoyed.

He sprinted to the front door, sock feet slipping slightly on the hard-wood. He quickly made up an apology, "Sorry, I couldn't find my wallet."

As the images once more floated through his mind's eye, he knew it couldn't wait any longer. It had to be soon. Because he didn't know how much longer he could live with himself.


	2. Chapter 1

It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you. Hotch knew that better than anyone else. From the moment Jack was diagnosed, his world had just crumbled. And that's when it had started; the regrets, the unanswered questions.

Maybe, he would tell himself, if they caught it sooner or maybe if they would have just opened their eyes and looked… But could you really blame them? After all, it had started just like any other flu: fatigue, fever, coughing, loss of appetite. It wasn't until Jack started itching did they begin to question it… but not really. No, that wasn't until they found his armpits swollen. _That's_ when they began to worry.

Like any good parent, they took Jack to the doctor's, which was just supposed to be a check up. It wasn't. Even now, he could still remember the first time they tested Jack for the disease. It burned in the back of his mind and, like a fire, it was the last thing he wanted to touch, but the memory had been recurring so often now that there was nothing he could do to erase it.

They had laid his son down on the examination table and he had just _watched _as the needle brook the white skin of his son's arm. Like any child, Jack had screamed and struggled in earnest through the first two vials. By the second he had gone completely limp. Hotch didn't know which was worse.

And now, all there was were tests. Endless amounts of tests. Biopsies, physical exams, x-rays, CT and MRI scans, bone marrow aspiration, and the list went on. And on. And on.

And on.

Hodgkin's lymphoma was killing him slowly and he wasn't even the one who had to go through it, but Jack did. So why was he the one who looked like the cancer patient?

It had gotten to a point where he didn't even recognize the man in the mirror. His sallow skin, baggy eyes, and sunken cheeks made him look ten years older than he had only a year ago. But cancer could do that to people. Even if it you weren't the direct victim of it.

Jack was strong though, holding on to his undefeatable spirit. But time and time again he would look at his sick son and ask himself, "How could I put him through this?"

But then he'd look again and imagine Jack's corpse, which made him wonder how he couldn't.

***

Like all their cases, this one began in the conference room at the round table. Reid was rambling off a series of statistics, but only Prentiss was really listening. Morgan, who was sitting a little to the right of them, was mocking them with great humor and Rossi was enjoying it with laughter. Like usual, they were waiting on Hotch and JJ, even though they were the ones who had called for the meeting.

"...But that doesn't even make sense," Emily argued.

Reid's eyes grew wide with excitement. "No, but it does. You just have to break it down." The speed of his voice noticeably increased then, as did the motion of his hands, the way it always did when he was eager to explain something. "See, statistics have shown that over a course of twenty-five years that twenty percent of males will have some –"

"Kid," Morgan cut in. "_Please_, it's nine o'clock in the morning. I don't need to hear this."

"Why should it matter what time it is?" Reid gave him an incredulous look. "You've already been at work for an hour. From your house, it takes precisely fourteen minutes and thirty-one seconds to get here. Unless, you carpool with Prentiss, then it generally takes twenty-one minutes and twelve seconds –"

"The fact that you know that is just plain creepy," Morgan told him.

" – So if it takes you an hour to get ready, then you've been up for over two hours, so generally speaking, you should be fully awake by now."

Emily snickered. "Reid, we can't all be morning people."

"Actually we can," Reid said, completely serious and everybody groaned. "You see, the body has a way of adapting to its environment."

"Kid, why can't you just say 'good morning' and be done for the day?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about it."

This time, Rossi laughed. "It just means, good morning."

"Try again," a voice spoke from behind them and everyone turned to the person who spoke.

"Rough morning, JJ?" Rossi asked as he eyed the unusually large stack of papers she was heaving in with her.

JJ gave him a knowing nod. "You could say that." And she dropped the folders with a thud. "God, these weigh a ton."

Emily raised her eyebrows in question. "Please tell me that's not our next case."

"Afraid so." She gave them an exasperated glance before searching the room. "I'm ready whenever Hotch gets here."

"Where is he?" Morgan asked.

"Here," Hotch said, choosing that moment to rush into the room, "Sorry, I'm late."

There were bags under his eyes, no doubt from lack of sleep, and the way he hunched slightly told them he wasn't doing so well. They all knew what happened to Jack and, even though they had offered their support, it wasn't making it any easier for their boss. But how could it when there was a possibility that your son could die?

He glared at them. "I'm ready." When everybody just continued to stare at him, he let out a defeated sigh, "I'm fine. Jack's fine. Haley took him to Chicago a couple days ago. They have one of the best pediatric hospitals in the country. Now can we start or are you going to stare at me all day?"

With great hesitation and one last glance his way, they nodded and JJ began the presentation. "Well, you may actually get to visit your son after all, Hotch."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. As much as he wanted to see his son, he didn't want this to be the reason JJ chose this case. "What do you mean?"

JJ hit a button on the remote and the screen flashed to a picture of a city. "Chicago, Illinois. Over the past couple of months, many people have had the suspicion of being stalked. At first the police thought it was just some hoax, but over time more and more people – who had never met before – have reported the same feeling."

Hotch sighed, more than frustrated, "JJ, please tell me you didn't just pick this case because of me." He paused to look her straight in the eye. "There's no reason for us to be there if the Chicago police can handle it themselves."

"I got a call from one of the lead officers yesterday, he said it was urgent." Though there was some truth in her words, everybody knew she picked the case so Hotch could be closer to Jack. At least for a little while. Everybody was wise enough not to call her out on it though, even Hotch kept his mouth shut.

"So, why do they need us?" Rossi asked.

"A body was found," JJ told them, her voice neglect of all emotions, "The police believe it's connected."

Morgan didn't look so sure. "Why do they think it's connected to the stalkings?"

"Cassie Evans," JJ began and the screen changed to a picture of the twenty-six year old woman, "She was one of the first to report the suspicion of being stalked. She claimed she saw the same man almost everywhere she went, but didn't really start to take note of it until she saw him outside her house. The police did nothing. She was found dead two weeks ago."

Hotch glanced down at the file. "She was strangled."

JJ nodded. "Maggie Williams was also found dead and strangled a week ago. She said the same things as Cassie, told the police, but they did nothing."

Morgan's jaw tightened. "Bastards."

"Lastly, Sabrina Johnson was found strangled in her bathroom sometime last night. Police are finally listening to the others, but so many women have stepped forward and claimed they're being stalked too."

"So there was a leak?" Emily asked, but trailed off in a violent cough.

"Apparently so. It's gotten out of hand." JJ let out an exasperated sigh and gestured to the small forest's worth of papers she had set on the table. "These are all the women who have claimed to have someone stalking them in the past six months… Are you okay?"

Emily waved her off as she coughed into her sleeve and Morgan pushed his cup of water towards her. "Here," he said, his voice soft and his face concerned.

"Thank you," she muttered once she gulped it down. There was a beat of silence before she changed the subject. "So we have to look through all of them?"

"Yeah…" JJ said.

Morgan huffed, "You can't be serious. There's only one guy and he can only stalk one victim at a time. There's no way all those women are possible victims."

"Talk about paranoid," Emily muttered.

"Yeah, but it's our job to narrow down the list," JJ told them, "I've glanced at a few and the claims range. Many claim that the guy was old and pale with blond hair and blue eyes, but others claim their stalker is African-American and young."

"Maybe it's a group," Reid suggested.

"No, I don't think so. Their MO's are too opposite," JJ explained as she began to pass out the folders. "It would never work."

"How so?"

"Well, only young to middle-aged women claim to see the blond guy and he's usually walking outside their house or at the grocery store or the park. People who have claimed our unsub is African-American vary widely in both age and race. Many doctors claim that they seen him around the hospital, looking through their patients' medical files."

"Which makes him a figure of high importance," Rossi jumped in, "Like a doctor or an officer."

"What's the likelihood of two different murderers in the same city? Both stalk their victims and yet they have nothing to do with the other?" Emily asked.

"Less than one percent," Reid informed her.

Hotch sighed, "For now, we'll just assume that they know each other."

"Why would he be looking at their medical files?" Morgan asked.

"The doctors assume he was looking at their patients' blood type, but they can't be sure," JJ explained.

"AB negative is the rarest," Reid piped in. "Approximately only one percent of the population has it.

"That's my blood type," Emily said, almost as if she were thinking out loud.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah."

And because Morgan couldn't help himself, he sent her a smile that could weaken any girl's knees. "A rarity. Maybe we should join a club."

She almost looked impressed. "Really? I didn't know you had the same blood type as me."

"I guess that makes us special."

"According to a Japanese institute that does research on blood types, there are certain personality traits that seem to match up with certain blood types," Reid told them quickly, his eyes once again growing wide with excitement, "Type AB personalities are said to be cool and controlled. They're generally well liked and always put people at ease. They're a natural entertainer who's tactful and fair. But they're standoffish, blunt, and have difficulty making decisions."

"Sounds like Morgan," Emily said with a snicker.

"Me?" Morgan asked, shocked, "I'm not blunt or standoffish."

"Yes, you are," they all said and Morgan kept his mouth shut.

Rossi let out an exasperated sigh before leaning back in his chair. "Guess we're going to Chicago."

"We can look over these files on the plane," Hotch said, "Wheels up in thirty."


	3. Chapter 2

As they sat on the plane, quietly poring over the seemingly endless amount of files, Morgan suddenly looked up at Emily and asked, "Do you really think I'm blunt and standoffish?"

She looked up from the file she was reading and looked momentarily confused at the out of the blue question before shrugging, "Maybe a little." She wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but it seemed to her that he looked hurt by her answer. "But it's not necessarily a bad thing," she quickly added, before changing the subject, "Are you glad to be going back home?"

He smiled and nodded, "It'll be nice for my mom to be able to guilt-trip me in person for a change."

She rolled her eyes, thinking that, compared to her mother, his mom had to be an amateur at guilt-trips. "What fault could your mother possibly find with your life?"

"I haven't settled down with a nice girl yet," he paraphrased, "She wants grandchildren and I'm not getting any younger..."

Emily smiled at the stereotypical mom complaints. "Were you planning on assuaging her worries any time soon?" They both understood what she meant.

Morgan suddenly seemed uncomfortable with the conversation and Emily couldn't quite pinpoint why. He bit at his lip anxiously for a second before quietly saying, "I don't want to talk about me anymore..." She looked at him with an eyebrow raised for a moment, silently searching for the reason for his 180 degree change in mood. His eyes darted across the plane to where Hotch sat, alone, quiet and sullen as he diligently focused on the files to take his mind off what they knew to be hiding just out of reach. "I'm going to talk to Hotch, see if he's alright." Emily nodded slowly as Morgan brushed past.

As Morgan made his way to the other end of the plane he was sidelined by Reid. "Morgan, have you read the files?" he whispered pointedly.

"Some of them."

"Which ones?" Morgan rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Reid stopped him with surprising strength. "Morgan, this is serious! This could -" he hissed.

With a glare Morgan whispered, "Reid, it's under control." And with a final look that clearly said the conversation was over and not to bring it up again, he rather brusquely pushed past and continued on towards Hotch.

As Morgan took the seat across from him, Hotch gave him a pointed look and asked, "Here to see how I'm holding up?"

Morgan shrugged and nonchalantly said, "You shouldn't assume things, maybe I'm here to discuss the case."

"Are you here to discuss the case?"

Morgan relented, "No..."

Hotch sighed, he did need to let out the overpowering worry building inside his head like a quickly boiling kettle. "Going to Chicago is our last hope... If this treatment doesn't work, the only choice left is a bone marrow transplant and neither Hailey nor I are a match... once you go outside the immediate family, the chances of finding an adequate three out of six match go way down. I really could lose him..."

Morgan eyed him sadly for a moment, worry creasing his face. "Sometimes you just have to trust that life isn't going to screw you over."

"How poetic," Hotch muttered ironically.

Morgan shrugged, "What kind of God would let a kid like Jack suffer through such a thing without throwing out a life-line?" Hotch said nothing, but seemed to be lost in thought, so Morgan left him alone.

When he returned to his original seat, Emily whispered, "Why did you tell him that?"

"What?"

"Give him false hope," she explained, "Kids die from cancer _every day_, why can't Jack be one of them? I know that your faith in God isn't that strong, but why bring Hotch down to your level?"

"I wasn't trying to pull him down to some sacrilegious depths," he retorted, "I genuinely think that things are going to work out."

"Well, you can't possibly know that! Better to let him be realistic about the statistics than raise him up only to be shot down in flames."

Morgan studied her for a moment, suspicious. "I would have thought you'd be all for making him feel better in the face of so much misery, rather than be the one driving your existential little rain cloud over his slowly dying parade of hope," he snapped acidly.

"The misfortune is that although everyone must come to death, each experiences the adventure in solitude," she quoted acidly.

"What could possibly make you so bitter that you'd take hope away from the father of a dying preschooler?"

She shot him a glacial glare, "If you don't want to talk about yourself, than neither do I!"

A/N: The quote about experiencing death alone is from Simone de Beauvoir, in her novel "A Very Easy Death".


	4. Chapter 3

"Emily?"

Morgan's voice actually startled her. She hadn't been where he thought she was. She might have physically been sitting next to him, but mentally she had been floating, hovering in her brain, thinking about her ever looming mortality. She turned to look at him and she silently wondered if he could see the dilemma processing behind her brown eyes. They were rich, glossy, and almost crystal clear – Just waiting to be shattered so she could tell him her secret in an agonizing river of tears.

"Emily?" She heard his rich, monotone voice come again, "You're not still mad… are you?"

She hadn't really heard him, but somehow she found herself replying, "No… I'm not mad. I'm sorry I snapped at you."

He bit his lip, debating if he should press the issue. Something was definitely up, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. Sighing, he threw a glance her way before concentrating on the road again. They were the lucky ones who'd been chosen to interview the victims' families. Why Hotch paired them together after they literally argued the entire plane ride, Morgan hadn't a clue. Personally, he thought the guy was losing it, but that was just him.

"Are you okay, Em?" he asked again.

"I'm fine." It was a lie and she could tell that Morgan knew it; she could feel the weight of his worry pressing down on her. Who knew that the words you never got around to saying could settle so heavy...

He knew she was lying, he could hear it in her voice. Ever since they'd gotten in the car she had been unusually quiet. Sure they fought, but it was still unlike her to hold a grudge against him. Not to mention she looked deathly pale, sick almost. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine_," she huffed.

"You don't look fine," he muttered.

This time, she rolled her eyes and sent him a death glare. "How many times do I have to tell you? I. Am. Fine. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he brought the car to a screeching halt at a red light and, as he waited for the light to turn green, he took his right hand off the wheel and felt her forehead. "I don't believe you."

"Morgan," she hissed, swatting his hand away, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Emily," he scowled at her, "you're burning up."

She slapped his hand away again. "I told you. I'm fine."

"No. You're sick," he argued.

"I'm not."

Now, he was getting annoyed. "Emily, you have a fever!"

"I don't."

"I'm taking you back to the hotel."

He turned to look at her then, his eyes burning with a seriousness she had never seen before. If it were anyone else, she might have backed down, might have been frightened away, but because it was Morgan, she held her own. "Morgan, I swear to God…."

"No, Em," he snapped, "You have to take care of yourself! You can't just go wandering around when you're sick. You'll pass out from exhaustion or something and then I'll be the one who has to explain it to Hotch."

Emily laughed at that, unintentionally easing the tension between them. "I could only imagine how that would go over."

He gave her his most charming smile. "Yeah, see my point?"

And though she had no intentions of doing so, she told him, "Look, we're almost at the Evans's house. Why don't we just go there first. Then, _maybe_,you can take me back to the hotel. Okay?"

"Fine." A car from behind them honked then, snapping his gaze from her. Sighing, he stepped on the gas pedal and made a left at the light.

***

Rossi shot Reid a look from the driver's seat of the car. It was understatement to say that the young doctor had been anxious for the past few hours. But on second thought, everyone but JJ and he had been on the edge of their seats. It was like he was in some bizarre dream or something and he was the only one who _wasn't _going crazy. But then again, maybe that meant he was the one who was losing his mind. Emily and Morgan had been at loggerheads the entire plane ride and why Hotch paired them to go interview the victims' families, Rossi hadn't a clue. But he didn't argue. He knew what Hotch was going through; he could see it in his friend's appearance, see it in the way Hotch's working abilities were affected. It pained him to see his friend like this. Hopefully seeing Jack would do him some good.

Reid on the other hand, had his gaze fixed out the window, lost in a thousand thoughts, not a single one Rossi could guess. "Hey, kid," Rossi said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" Reid asked, but he didn't turn to look at him.

"You okay?"

"…Yeah. I'm fine."

"Okay."

And they sat in silence for approximately a minute before Reid turned to him again, which was exactly what Rossi had been expecting. "Hey, Rossi… Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, kid. Shoot."

"Well… if a friend wanted you to do something for them, but you didn't want to and you knew it was dangerous and probably illegal... would you do it?"

Rossi raised his eyebrows. If this was Reid's way of asking him for help, then so be it. "A friend? Reid, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know that, which is why I'm asking you now," he told him, completely serious.

"Well, I guess it would depend what it is, but you should talk to your 'friend' if you don't want to do it. Maybe, your 'friend' needs to talk to somebody… like me," Rossi said slowly. "Does that help?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

And then just like that, Reid turned to staring out the window again. Rossi sighed, wondering if he got through to the kid at all or just made whatever was going on worse.

***

JJ pulled into the parking lot of the Children's Memorial Hospital. From the airport, it took them about an hour and half to get there, so she was now saying a silent thanks that Hotch had slept for the entire drive. If he was awake, she knew he would have made her turn around, but the team didn't need them right now. Right now, Hotch needed Jack and Jack needed Hotch.

"JJ?" Hotch asked tiredly as he sat up in the passenger seat of the rental car.

She took the closest parking spot she could find before turning off the ignition. "You fell asleep, Hotch."

Hotch rubbed the sleep out of eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, JJ. I didn't mean to. You should have woken me up."

JJ shrugged. "You needed it."

"Not while on the job. I shouldn't sleep while working," he argued.

"Well," she began, "what if you're not working?"

Only now did he seem to take in his surroundings. Surroundings which most definitely weren't the Chicago police station. "JJ, where are we?"

She locked her blue eyes with his brown ones. "I think you know, Hotch."

"JJ –"

"No, Hotch, it's okay. Rossi already knows we're here. They won't miss or need us for a couple of hours."

Hotch buried his head in his hands. "JJ, I can't…"

She started to argue, but he cut her off, "No, JJ, you don't get it. I _can't _go in there."

She gave him an incredulous look. "What do you mean?"

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his seat. "I can't look at him. When I look at him, I wonder how I could put him through this. He hates it, JJ. He hates all the tests, cries all the time. He just wants to go home. Did you know that? He tells me every night on the phone and I have to make him stay there. Is that selfish of me?" It was probably the first time she had ever seen him struggle to hold back tears. He was trying so hard to not let them fall, but his wall was finally breaking down and he wasn't quite sure how to fix it. "Am I a bad parent for putting him through this?"

"No," she said, blinking back tears, "Not at all. He loves you, Hotch."

"You don't know that."

"I do," she assured him, "I know."

"He doesn't want to see me, JJ. I'm sure of it. I'm the one who makes him stay there."

She nodded, understanding. "I'm a parent too, Hotch," she told him softly, "I may not have any idea what you're going through, but I can imagine. If it were me Hotch, I wouldn't let this slip by. Trust me on this, Jack wants to see you." JJ reached out and gripped his hand reassuringly. "I'll wait out here."

He smiled weakly at her before squeezing her hand back. "Thank you, JJ."

"And Hotch," she said as he got out of the car.

"Yeah?"

She gave him a teary-eyed smile. "He's going to be okay. I can feel it."

Hotch looked her in the eye and all he saw was hope, reassurance. He could have argued with her, could have told her to stop making up lies, but he didn't. Instead, he gave her one last nod before shutting the door behind him. He told himself that he just didn't want to argue with her, when in reality he wanted nothing more than to believe her false hope.


	5. Chapter 4

Hotch walked slowly through the halls of the children's hospital towards the oncology unit, trying to decide if the garishly colored walls were fitting or ironic, anything to keep his mind off what Jack was going to say when he saw him. He found it rather disconcerting to discover just how much sway his emotions held over him, logic and reason completely abandoning him suddenly; at a time when any rational person would be thinking how happy their child would be to see their often absent parent during a time of need, he was left blindly praying that Jack didn't hate him for putting him through this.

Reaching the right room, he paused in front of the door and stood rooted to the spot. Now that he was here, he was certain that it was a bad idea. He debated just turning around and leaving before remembering that JJ was waiting for him and that she would probably be a little annoyed if, after she'd pulled so many strings for him, he didn't take advantage of the rare chance to see his son.

So he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked slowly on the door before turning the knob and quietly entering the room. Hailey was sleeping in a chair next to the bed while Jack sat up in bed, coloring. "Hey, buddy," he whispered to Jack.

The little boy looked up immediately and smiled. "Daddy!" He began attempting to maneouver himself out of the bed.

"No, no," he stopped him, seeing the IV's tugging at his central line and worrying that he might rip it out, despite knowing that it had already healed in. He carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Jack into a hug. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged and immediately blew past the question, "They brought the puppies here yesterday and I got to play with them and there was a little white one wearing a sweater and he was really silly and..."

Hotch smiled to himself as Jack talked his ear off, just like he always did; at least his illness didn't seem to have dampened his spirits too much. "Whoa there, buddy, slow down. I'll be here for awhile, I promise you'll have time to tell me everything."

As he spoke with his son, Hailey began to stir and seemed a little surprised to see him there. "Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked him.

He smiled sheepishly, "You looked like you could use the sleep." She gave a weary half-smile in response. While they may have had a lot of issues before, the news of Jack's illness had forced them to put aside their differences and get along.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

Hotch turned to Jack and said, "I'll be right back, okay? Then you can tell me all about the silly dogs."

Jack nodded and quickly added, "Are you gonna stay for Jell-o?"

"Sure thing, bud." He turned back to Hailey who lead him out of the room. "What's up?" he asked when she'd shut the door behind them.

She sighed heavily and brushed her hair away from her face. "The doctors don't think the chemo is working."

He felt his heart pounding his his throat. "So, what are they going to do now?"

"They're suggesting radiation and a bone marrow transplant." He nodded, they had known that that was a possible eventuality. "They want to do it this week."

That he hadn't been expecting. "But they haven't found a donor yet..." She nodded grimly.

***

Morgan held the passenger door open for Emily and couldn't help but notice that she seemed unusually tired, especially considering that it wasn't even noon yet. As he got into the vehicle and pulled away from the curb, he surreptitiously glanced her way several times, worried that something was wrong. When he pulled back onto the freeway, heading back towards the hotel, she suddenly became wide awake, asking suspiciously, "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the next family's house..."

"We're going back to the hotel," he replied simply.

"I don't think so," she said, sitting up straighter.

He sighed and reminded her, "You're sick, you probably have the flu, you need to rest."

"We've been through this, I'm fine."

"I know we've already had this discussion, but I still don't believe you."

"Morgan, please," she plead, "Please, just trust me. I'll be okay." He looked over at her, meeting her eyes as she begged him wordlessly.

At length, he sighed, "Fine. But only if you promise to take it easy when we get to the hotel tonight."

"I promise."


	6. Chapter 5

"Mrs. Williams," Emily began, forcing herself to concentrate on the woman she was interviewing, "I know it's hard, but you are helping us. Trust me."

Mrs. Williams was the kind of woman who'd win the mom of the year award and would make the perfect grandma if given the chance. But that dream had been cruelly taken away from her when her only daughter had so suddenly ceased to exist in her life. Emily couldn't even imagine what it must have felt like, knowing that the people you loved most in the world were no longer just a phone call away. As a child, she always liked to imagine that they were just off on an extended vacation or something of that nature, but now she knew the truth.

Now she knew what Hotch was going through.

"Maggie was studying to be a doctor," Mrs. Williams told them softly, "Did you know that?"

Morgan gave her a sad eyed smile. "I'm sure she was very smart."

Mrs. Williams' face brightened considerably at the memory. "Oh yes. She got a full ride scholar ship to Pittsburg University. She was just coming home for the weekend..." she trailed off, letting the sentence die in a choked sob. "Maybe if I hadn't asked her to come out..."

"This is not your fault," Emily insisted.

"That's what Joe tells me."

"Your husband is right. This isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault, but the person who did this and that's why we are doing everything in our power to get this guy behind bars," Morgan reassured her in a way that only he could manage.

Suddenly, Mrs. Williams got a far away look in her eyes, as if she were somewhere else, in another place in time. But unfortunately, she was brought back into the cruel reality at the sound of a violent cough. The older woman eyed the younger agent suspiciously. "Are you okay, sweetheart? I could get you a glass of water or bottled if you prefer."

Emily waved her off. "I'm fine," she forced out, but that apparently wasn't enough to convince a mother of twenty-three years."

Mrs. Williams glanced at Morgan. "I don't think she's okay."

Morgan smiled weakly. "Water would be fine."

"No problem." The older woman gave them a smile that said she was happy to help.

Once Mrs. Williams was out of sight Morgan's hand flew to Emily's forehead and he frowned. "You're still burning up."

"It's going down," she lied, her voice strained.

"If anything it went up. Now stop arguing. I'm taking you back to the hotel after this."

"Fine."

His expression bore nothing but concern. She didn't argue with him, yell at him, or hold a grudge. Instead, she just sat there and quietly agreed. _Now_ he was really beginning to worry about her well-being. Emily wasn't the type of person to go down without a fight. However, before he could question her further Mrs. Williams returned with two bottles of water. Emily drank it almost greedily and he couldn't help but glance at her from the corner of his eye.

Apparently, Mrs. Williams was worried too because she asked, "Are you sure you're okay? Because you could lie down... It wouldn't be too much trouble."

Emily immediately felt her cheeks flame. "I'm fine, really." But she was convincing nobody, so she quickly changed the subject. "Thank you for the water."

"Ma'am," Morgan began, directing the conversation back on track, "If it's not too much trouble, we'd like to talk to your husband sometime."

"He's at the hospital I'm afraid." If possible, the elder woman's face fell even more. "He was diagnosed with renal cancer a couple of months ago. It's why Maggie came home…she was going to give him one of her kidneys. She didn't have to, but she wanted to help. But... But not anymore."

"I'm terribly sorry," Emily told her honestly, just barely forcing the words out through another cough.

Mrs. Williams blinked back tears. "You know, after Maggie went off to college, Joe and I were going to become foster parents. We just wanted to help other kids out, but then Joe was diagnosed and Maggie... Oh, Maggs..."

The older woman broke down in heart-wrenching sobs and Emily felt her heart break at the sound of them. She wasn't good at comforting people – though people had told her otherwise – and she felt terribly uncomfortable around them too. This was JJ's expertise, not her's. She couldn't deal with this, so she pulled on that mask she so often wore and forced herself to become somebody she wasn't.

"Mrs. Williams, if there is anything else we can do for you, please let us know."

"Just catch the man who took away my baby."

Emily nodded. "We'll do everything in our power."

Then suddenly it hit her.

Hard and fast. Never before had she felt such a blinding pain. It started in her chest and it pounded with an indescribable agony with every beat her heart struggled through. She tried to keep a straight face, but there was too much pain. She was suffocating and the feeling of drowsiness was wresting control. The room was spinning, her chest was on fire, and the voices of everyone in the room were slowly fading away. She could do nothing, feel nothing but pain. She was fighting a losing battle, a dying battle.

But hadn't she known that?

She knew this day was coming, knew it would happen no matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wouldn't. However, never had she suspected it would happen so soon. Not now. Not here. Not in front of Mrs. Williams, whose husband was dying from cancer and who had just lost her only daughter. The last thing she needed was another traumatizing experience. Especially one from an agent who only moments before had told her she would help.

Emily desperately tried not to show the fear, the anxiety blanching her face, but she must have failed miserably because Mrs. Williams was already asking her a question. A question she didn't hear. She knew what the woman was asking and tried to force out some words, any words, but nothing would come.

Thankfully, Morgan could tell that something was wrong and within moments he was saying their goodbyes and ushering her out the door.

***

Hotch placed his head in his hands and inhaled sharply. When Haley was pregnant was Jack, never would he have imagined that his child would be a cancer patient, certainly not so soon. You see it all the time in movies and books, but in real life stuff like this wasn't supposed to happen. It just wasn't. It was wrong. It tore families apart. It ate away your soul until there was nothing left. In all honesty though, you just never think that it could happen to you. And when it does, it's already too late.

"Daddy? Will the bone marrow transplant hurt?" Jack asked him, breaking him from his thoughts.

Hotch couldn't look Jack in the eye and lie, but he couldn't tell him the truth either. "This will help you get better, Bud," he told him, avoiding the question altogether.

They had just broke the news to their son and thankfully, the little boy had taken to it a lot better than they had. But then again, Jack probably had no idea what he was really going through.

"And then we can go home?" the little boy asked hopefully.

Feeling tears swell, Hotch turned to stare out the window. "If it works, then maybe."

"Oh. Okay," Jack accepted in the way only a child would. "Where will the bone marrow stuff come from?"

Hotch gave his son a weak smile as he reached out and clasped his small hand in his. "We're still looking, Buddy, but we'll find some. I promise." He prayed that he'd be able to keep that promise.

***

"Emily?" Morgan asked hesitantly as soon as they were outside the door. Never had he seen her so lost, so out of touch with reality. He knew she was sick, knew she shouldn't be out in the field and yet, he had let her convince him otherwise. He hated himself for giving in. "Emily," he tried again, "You okay?"

"I'm... I... I'm fine," she stammered.

But he wasn't a fool. It was forced. Something was wrong. The way she was clutching at her chest wasn't helping his state of mind either.

"What hurts?" he asked.

For a moment, she looked as if she were going to tell him otherwise, but then an expression of pure pain washed over her beautiful features again and she fought out the truth. "I... My heart."

He gave her an incredulous look, not believing what he had just heard. "Your heart?" he asked. He couldn't help but sound a little skeptical. "Emily, I think you should lie down." But his warning came too late because a split second later, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she toppled sideways into his arms.


	7. Chapter 6

Hotch sighed heavily as he paced around the waiting room. He knew it was stupid, to think that by being near the radiation lab, that his mere proximity, would help Jack through the procedure, would stop him from getting worse.

The sound of someone heavily dropping themselves into one of the nearby chairs startled him, he hadn't heard anyone enter the room. "Rough day, huh?" he said, scrubbing his hand over his face in the hope of appearing slightly less disheveled.

"You have no idea," was the response.

The voice made him look up sharply, in total shock. He had been expecting Hailey, maybe a stranger going through a similar tragedy.

Not Morgan.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply.

Morgan didn't answer directly, "I could ask you the same thing... I thought Jack was at the Children's..." They had been expecting Hotch to visit his son at some point, but he hadn't been expecting to run into him here.

His face saddened and Morgan was struck with a deep sorrow for his plight. "Jack's chemotherapy wasn't working, they're giving him radiation to do a bone marrow transplant. This hospital is better equipped to give the treatment on such short notice." Morgan moved to sit next to him, clapping a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

Morgan swallowed thickly. "Emily collapsed as we were leaving the Williams' house."

If possible, he was even more shocked than when he realized Morgan was in the waiting room with him. "What?" he asked incredulously.

He looked Hotch squarely in the face and said very seriously, "She's really sick..." What he wanted to say was to ask Hotch to take her out of the field or at least assign her to stay at the station, but he couldn't do that to her. For one thing, she'd be pissed and besides, it wasn't his place, even if he was only doing it out of concern for her well-being.

Hotch buried his face in his hands, shutting his eyes tightly as if that would make all of this go away like a bad dream. He could not handle this right now. "So, what's going to happen to her?"

He shrugged, "They're running a cardio stress test right now... Something must have been off with the EKG."

"Does anyone else know?"

His question was answered when JJ stopped short upon entering the room and stared quizzically at Morgan. "What are you doing here?"

***

Emily waited until Morgan had left the room before turning to the doctor and handing him her medical file; she always carried it with her when travelling on cases now, just in case. She took a deep breath to steel her nerves, she still didn't like to talk about it because that made it real, concrete, undeniable and she couldn't pretend that she would wake up any second to find out it had all been some terrible dream.

She had woken up when Morgan lifted her out of the car into a wheelchair, after having raced across town, lights and sirens blaring. She had been alarmed and confused, not aware of what had happened or where she was. Since then, she had seen doctor after doctor and endured test after test, EKG after echocardiogram after auscultation and blood pressure. And Morgan had been at her side like white on rice the entire time.

She didn't know why she was so scared of anyone knowing the truth, but the mere thought terrified her. So, she had asked Morgan to leave them alone so they could discuss 'feminine' symptoms. He had seemed reluctant, as if by leaving her alone he would be inviting some calamity to befall her. But she knew it was just because he cared, so she attempted a smile and reassured him that a nurse would find him should anything happen.

But now that the moment of truth was here, she was hesitant. She took another deep breath and said, "I have congenitally corrected transposition of the great arteries..."

***

Reid looked about, confused. He turned back to exchange a questioning glance with Rossi. The rest of the team should have been here a half hour ago and yet, here they were and here the others weren't. They hadn't even called to say that they were tied up.

Hotch being late was understandable, considering he got to see Jack so rarely. But Morgan and Emily were a whole different story... All they had to do was interview the families; if anything, they should have been back at the station first.

Reid dialed each of their cells in turn with no answer. He was starting to get antsy with each unanswered ring. The sound of Morgan's voicemail picking up made him more agitated; he really hoped he hadn't done something stupid as he was known to do on occasion. "Where are you guys? We were supposed to meet at the police station..." He trailed off, looked about, then quietly said, "Morgan, if you're trying to..." He stopped abruptly when Rossi walked over. "Call me back," he finished the message before hanging up.

"The team still in limbo?" he asked. Reid nodded. "What is up with the universe today?" he muttered.


	8. Chapter 7

It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you. Morgan had been in a hospital many times before and had seen men and women of all ages caged in one of those small rooms, but for some reason Emily looked smaller than the rest. She looked sicker too. Deathly sick and ghostly pale. If it wasn't for the way she gasped with every shaky breath, he would have thought she was dead. For one startling moment, Morgan had the horrible image of a corpse that might as well have been Emily flashing through his mind. Shuddering slightly, Morgan bit his lip and forced himself to sit down as gently as he could beside her.

The veins on her neck and chest were a road map, highways that didn't lead anywhere. When she finally opened her eyes, Morgan nearly fell off the bed; it was an _Exorcist _moment. "Morgan?" she rasped out, staring straight at him. He had not expected to see the all-consuming fright in her eyes. The last time he'd seen her this scared was well... never.

"Hey, girl," Morgan whispered, forcing out an air of calmness, while on the inside he was falling apart.

"Are you mad?" she asked him softly.

Still, that fear did not leave her eyes and he had to look away. "How could I be mad at you?"

"You told me to go back to the hotel and I didn't listen. If I would have just..."

"I'm not mad, Em. You just scared the hell out of me, that's all."

And that did it. His voice was enough for her to break down and Morgan was at a loss for what to do. She was crying, so angry at herself, but she couldn't stop. The only time she ever allowed herself to be weak was at home, in the shower, so the water could wash away her tears and sorrows. But the harder she tried to stop, the harder her tears came. It was as if he had broken her solid mask of courage, which was impossible to fix while everything poured out.

"Hey, Em... Don't cry. It's okay. You're okay," Morgan soothed.

"No. I'm not. I'm not okay," she told him, sobbing as she did so.

Still her tears did not cease and only now did he really let himself worry. Never had he seen Emily Prentiss cry. "What do you mean, Emily?"

"I'm sick, Morgan," she admitted in a heart-wrenching sob. "I'm really sick."

Morgan eyed the various tubes and machines that were feeding out of her, keeping her alive, but still he ignored the claim. "No. You're not sick. You're fine."

"I'm dying."

There it was. The truth. The plain and simple truth. The statement was like a punch to a gut and it brought a different kind of pain, one he hadn't been expecting. "What?" he asked, completely shocked.

"I'm dying," she repeated sternly.

He looked at her again, really looked at her. Her lips were chapped with blood, her skin was almost transparent, and he could see that it was a struggle for her to breathe. But still he wouldn't let himself believe, because then... Then it became real. "And what disease could you possibly have that's killing you, Em? Why would you make up something like this?"

Yes. That was the question.

Why?

The question only caused her to cry harder. "I'm not lying," she forced out from the back of her throat. "It's called Congenitally Corrected Transposition of the Great Arteries. It's my heart. It's dying on me."

He knew then that she wasn't lying. "Then we'll find you a new heart," he assured, fighting the urge to lash out and punch the nearest wall.

She looked him in the eye then and when she saw the endless amount of hope there, she couldn't help but look away. It only made it that much harder to tell him the painstaking truth. "There isn't going to be a new heart, Morgan."

"Don't be foolish. Of course there will be."

But she was shaking her head, already disagreeing with him. "Morgan, I've known about this for a long time now. I've done the research. I even know the statistics better than Reid. There isn't going to be a donor and there isn't going to be a heart. I accepted that a long time ago."

Morgan clenched his fist and blinked back tears, but he refused to let them fall. She had stopped crying now and pulled that ridiculous mask of courage back over her face, refusing to let anybody in. And that was all it took for a feeling of anger to wash over him.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" he snapped at her, letting his anger attack her.

She was clearly taking back by his outburst, but still she did not falter. "I'm sorry, Morgan," was all she managed.

He glanced upward, hoping to find the answers from above. The last time he prayed, Garcia had been shot. Was it too much to ask for a miracle now? "Does anybody else know?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not ready to tell them yet."

"Do you want me to?"

She shrugged, but there was a new type of fear in her eyes. "You can if you want," she settled on.

There was a beat of silence then, but that was all it took for everything to really sink in. Suddenly, the walls were crashing in around him, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe. He had to get out before he broke down in front in her. It was as if every depressing secret he had been keeping for the last couple of months were finally ready to break free in a river of tears. That was why he had to get out.

Now.

So, sighing inwardly, he reached out a shaking hand and intertwined their fingers. "You'll be okay, Em. I'll make sure if it. With my last dying breath, I'll make sure of it. I promise."

She smiled weakly at him. "What would I do without you?"

He frowned, desperately trying to blink back tears. "Sleep," he told her, his voice cracking, "The doctors said you need a lot of rest. I'm going to step out for a bit and get something to eat, but I'll be right back. Okay?"

Emily nodded and as soon as her eyes shut, he bolted towards the door and out into the hallway. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he didn't care. He just needed to get away. To think.

And as he ran, he cried. He cried for Emily. He cried for Jack, for Hotch. He cried for the ones he lost, the ones who died because of him. He cried for his father – the man he had always wanted to grow up to be, but failed miserably. He cried as he balled his hand into a fist and struck it against the nearest wall. He cried as he pummeled it over and over again. He cried as a nurse led him away, to wash the blood off his knuckles and to bandage the scrapes. He cried until he knew Emily wasn't the only one hurting.


	9. Chapter 8

When his phone rang, Reid jumped up with a start. He glared at it as he read the name on the caller ID. "Finally," he said exasperatedly, "I've been trying to get ahold of you for hours!"

"You have not, you left your first message like forty-five minutes ago."

Reid rolled his eyes, "Where are you? Have you heard from Hotch and JJ?"

Morgan was silent for a minute, pensive. "Have you heard of a condition called congenitally corrected transposition of the great arteries?" he asked at length.

He nodded before remembering that Morgan couldn't see him. "Yeah, it's a congenital heart defect where the right atrium is connected to the left ventricle and vice versa. But the blood still flows normally because the pulmonary artery and the aorta are reversed. It occurs in less than one percent of the population, usually in males. On its own, it's usually not much of a problem, at least not initially, but quite often it's accompanied by other problems like atrial septal defect, patent foramen ovale, or arterial stenosis. Over time, the right ventricle hypertrophies while the left ventricle atrophies and quite often the pulmonary artery becomes distended because of the abnormal pressure. Most patients don't live beyond the age of forty. Why?"

Morgan opened his mouth to answer, but changed his mind before any words could escape. Emily had given him permission to tell the others, but something was holding it back; he wasn't sure why he didn't want to say anything, all he knew was that he wanted to keep it to himself. "I met someone who needs help..." he said instead; it wasn't really a lie.

"Morgan..." he started to say, "If you're thinking about..."

He was cut off, "I've got to go. I'll tell JJ to call you."

"Wait! Does that mean you're at the hospital?" He got no answer other than dead air, Morgan was already gone.

***

Morgan found Hotch, still in the waiting room, JJ hovering nearby, not sure where the line fell when it came to comforting versus encroaching.

"How's Jack?" he asked quietly.

"We're not allowed to see him yet," Hotch sighed, "They're first making sure he doesn't react to the treatment before they risk contaminating the clean room."

"Reid and Rossi are at the police station," he reminded gently, "And we should really be getting back so we can get this case over and done with. Especially considering we're already down one agent."

Hotch nodded. "Does that mean that Prentiss is out of the field indefinitely?"

Morgan shrugged. "I haven't spoken to her doctor..." He said nothing more and, for a moment, he thought Hotch was going to question him further; he wondered if he looked guilty, like someone who knew more than they were letting on.

But he said nothing further on the subject, merely commenting, more to himself, that he would have to speak with her cardiologist.

I'll meet you guys in the parking lot," Morgan said, "I want to tell Emily what's happening."

***

The entire rest of the day he felt terrible for leaving Emily alone at the hospital. Being in the hospital is bad enough, but it's infinitely worse when it's in a strange city without family and friends to keep you company. He felt so bad, in fact, that he almost considered calling his mother and asking if she wouldn't mind checking in on her. Almost. He knew his mother would have done so in a heartbeat without a second thought; she had quite liked Emily when they had met. But he doubted whether Emily would really appreciate that. She probably wouldn't have been too happy with having him hovering around all day either. But that did nothing to quell his feelings of guilt.

When the team had finally decided to call it quits for the day, he felt torn. She would probably be asleep already and he doubted he could make it there before visiting hours were over, but he needed to see her...

The rest of the team had wanted to see her as well, they were worried. Not as worried as they should be... When it had came time to explain why Emily wasn't with him, he had lied and told them that it was probably from exhaustion or dehydration; he still wasn't sure why he had lied. But they had all accepted that it was too late to visit her that night and that it would be best to wait. He had accepted no such thing.

He was just about to call up the cardiology ward and ask to speak with her when his phone rang, the caller ID flashing her name across the screen.

"Aren't you not supposed to use cell phones in the hospital?" he made a weak attempt at a joke. He didn't want her to know that he had spent the entire day worrying about her.

"Morgan..." she said softly, then hesitated. She began to say something else but stopped herself, "Never mind."

He bit at his lip in worry. "What's wrong?" he asked, "What is it?"

"Don't worry about it," she said, "It doesn't matter. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," he said seriously, "Now, what is it?"

She hesitated a moment longer, then relented. "I... I don't want to be alone..." she sobbed.

He felt even worse for having left her in the first place and for having hesitated before going to see her. "Okay..." he said slowly, having been knocked for a loop by his guilty conscience. He was still a ways from the hospital and he didn't want to leave her lonely in the meantime. "I'll be there as soon as I can, but I'm gonna stay on the line until I get there, okay?"

"Morgan..." she sighed, "You don't have to do that..."

"Well, I'm gonna."

She gave a small smile. "Thank you..." she whispered.

"Talk to me, Princess," he said gently, the sometimes nickname strangely calming, providing a normalcy she had been missing. "What did the doctors say?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now..." she said softly.

"Alright," he said gently, "What do you want to talk about? And don't say the case!"

He had called her out, he knew her too well. "I don't know..."

He laughed. "I know 'Green Eggs and Ham' off by heart..." he suggested. That was the only thing that he could come up with, not sure how that would help, but hoping that nonsensical children's rhymes would bring her a moment of peace.

"Okay..." she said quietly.

"I am Sam. Sam I am. That Sam I am, that Sam I am, I do not like that Sam I am!" He paused, listening to her breathing slow as she calmed a little. He almost hoped that she'd fall asleep before he got there, she needed the rest and he needed to come to terms with what was happening.


	10. Chapter 9

Rossi found Reid slumped over the desk with at least five empty Styrofoam cups, which no doubt had once been filled with coffee, scattered around him. There were two more cups in the trashcan and Rossi couldn't help but wonder what was bothering the kid. He knew Reid had had a drug issue before he arrived, but the signs didn't seem to fit now. If Reid was using again, he was definitely hiding it well.

Sighing softly, Rossi switched on the desk light and Reid jumped a mile out of his chair. It took the young doctor a moment, but his eyes eventually fell on the man who had torn him from his dreamless sleep.

"Campus security contacted me about suspicious activity," Rossi informed him softly. "You do realize that it's past midnight?" he added when Reid didn't answer. They were the only two occupants of the university's legal library, Reid apparently the only person on campus who felt the need to study on a Friday night.

Reid rummaged in various pockets, producing up a laminated I.D. badge. "I have authority."

"Reid," Rossi began as he took the chair directly across from him. "Do you want to talk?"

"I'm fine, Rossi. Really."

A number of well-worn legal textbooks were scattered across the table top, open to pages on various topics and a numerous photocopied sheets in various stages of being highlighted littered the desk. Rossi's eyes shifted to the case file sitting open on the desk. There were several names scrawled across the file and before he could process any of it, Reid flipped it over, blocking it from his view. "That's not our case. Is it?"

Reid honestly didn't know how to respond to that, so he changed the subject altogether. "Everything's okay."

"Reid –"

"I'm just helping a friend, Rossi," Reid cut in, "That's all."

Rossi sighed, admitting defeat. Reid clearly wasn't going to open up now and if he pushed too much, he knew Reid would cut off all ties completely. He didn't want that. "Okay, Reid. But promise me you'll come to me _before _you get into trouble. I just want to help."

Reid gave him a sad-eyed smile as he stood from his chair. "I think it's a little late for that, Rossi, but thanks anyway. It's nice to know that someone cares."

"Spencer…" But his words were never acknowledged, because by then, Reid was already halfway out the door.

***

Hotch awoke in a chair in an almost impossible position. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, but as soon as his frantic eyes fell on the small boy in the bed, he knew. It had felt like a dream, though. These last couple of months, everything just seemed to fall out of place and his world had crumbed at his feet. But he had tried so hard to tell himself otherwise, to live a lie. Ever since Jack was diagnosed he had convinced himself that everything would be okay, that everything would go back to the way it was. He told himself this until he believed the lie over the truth. But now, seeing Jack in that bed, made him realize that there were just some things he would never be able to fix, no matter how hard he tried.

"Daddy?"

Hotch leaned forward, until he could see his son's eyes in the dark. It was well past midnight and, after a full day out in the field, he just couldn't sleep knowing that Jack was here. "Hey, Buddy. You should be asleep."

"Daddy? Can I ask you a question?" Jack asked in the innocent way only a child could.

"Yeah sure," he whispered.

Jack gave him tired smile and then, slowly, he reached out a hand and traced his father's face. "What is heaven like?"

Hotch blinked back tears and forced himself to remain on task, but his walls were crumbling down and he wasn't sure how long he could keep them up. "I don't know, but I'm sure it's everything you imagine it to be and possibly more." He inhaled sharply, forcing his voice to stay steady. "But you shouldn't worry about that, because you won't be visiting there for a long, long time. You hear me?"

A tear must have escaped his eye because Jack wiped it away as he nodded. "Daddy, you shouldn't be sad." Jack smiled a toothy smile and it made his heart ache. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause remember... I'll always be right there." He pointed to Hotch's heart. "No matter what."

And Hotch broke then and he didn't care that Jack was there to witness it. Without Jack, he didn't know who he was. And if Jack died, he would die, because after all, you couldn't live for very long without a heart. He had became an FBI agent to save people, but he should have been more specific. He should have named names.

***

By the time he arrived at the hospital, it was well past midnight. The only lights left on were the ones in the emergency room, but it didn't matter because the light of the moon did a good enough job of leading the way. A guard and two nurses had each stopped him, saying that visiting hours were over and he would have to come back tomorrow, but it only took his charm and a flash of his badge to get where he wanted to be. When he found her, her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly, deeply. To him, the monitor keeping time to her heartbeat counted out the seconds of her life.

"Morgan?" she rasped out before she even opened her tired eyes. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled softly as he took the seat beside her bed. "I told you I'd come. Didn't I?"

She looked so small on the hospital bed, so fragile, so lost. Morgan sighed heavily as he ran a hand through her hair, letting his fingertips cascade through her wavy locks and making sure his eyes never left hers. A silence hung between them and he didn't dare break it because he wanted her to know that he was there for her. Sometimes there weren't words to say. Some things were just better left unsaid.

It was her who chose to break the silence. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd come."

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to his previous question. "I always have time for you."

"You're a good guy, Morgan. You know that?"

She was so tired. He could hear it in her voice, the way she trailed off at the end of every sentence, the way she couldn't quite keep her eyes open. "Hey, you should be asleep," he said, finally finding his voice.

"You're not," she pointed out.

"You called."

"You should go back," she told him honestly, "I'll be okay. I promise."

But she didn't sound okay. "I'd rather stay here." And he meant it.

She dropped her eyes shyly, a reaction he'd never seen from her before. Maybe, Emily Prentiss was a little more afraid than she was letting on and just possibly she didn't want to die. "I didn't know who else to call," she told him softly, her voice cutting through him like a whip.

"I didn't tell anyone," he admitted to her quietly.

She either didn't hear him or ignored him, because her voice, filled with question rang throughout the room. "Morgan?"

There was a beat of silence, a silence he felt should not be broken, so he waited patiently for her to continue.

"Do you ever think about dying?"

He hesitated, but he couldn't lie to her when she could very well be on her death bed. "Sometimes it crosses my mind," he admitted and it only took one glance at her for memories of the past to invade his mind. He could hear her laughter in his ear, her voice in his head, and see the bits and pieces of broken moments before his eyes. And he realized then that memories weren't stored in the heart or even the soul, but the spaces between any two given people.

"I think about it. All the time. Do you think it'll be like sleeping? That easy? That painless?"

The conversation was getting to him and, more for his sake than hers, he had to look away and blink back tears. "You don't have to worry about that, Em. Everything will be okay."

Another silence washed over them and it lasted for awhile, making him wonder if she had fallen asleep, but when he turned to look at her, those hollow eyes continued to gaze back at him; he realized she was fighting sleep. "When I was kid," she began, her voice even more strained than before, "My father use to read me _Green Eggs and Ham_ every night. I had it memorized in a week, but I still let him read it to me. I miss his voice…"

"I didn't know that. It was just my favorite book as a child."

She smiled and her eyes drifted shut. "Mine too."

He knew she was struggling to stay awake and he couldn't figure out why. "You should sleep," he urged.

Her eyes shot open and what he saw startled him. They glistened with tears and a fear he had never seen before. "Morgan," she choked out.

"Yeah?" he whispered, his voice nearly mirroring the break in hers.

"What if I don't wake up? I'm afraid I'll go to sleep and won't wake up," she admitted, crying softly. "I'm so afraid. God, I'm so afraid."

His hand found and then covered hers in the darkness, intertwining their fingers and holding on tight. "Then I won't wake with you."


	11. Chapter 10

It took Morgan a few seconds to realize what it was that had woken him. And it wasn't until he reached for his phone that he realized he was still holding tightly to Emily's hand. He briefly glanced at the caller ID before deciding he could ignore it for awhile. He had promised Emily that they would wake up together or not at all and he was determined to uphold that promise.

He kept his eyes trained on her sleeping form, astounded by her beauty and elegance even in such a moment of weakness. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, assuring himself that she was still breathing. He traced his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand, maintaining his grip even as his phone rang a second time.

"You really shouldn't ignore them, you know," Emily said quietly. Her voice startled him, having thought she was still asleep. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, smiling slightly. "You should get back, you've got work to do."

"First of all, I wasn't ignoring them. I was just procrastinating on answering... I promised you I'd be here when you woke up and I was seeing that through before doing anything else. And second, I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure that you're going to be okay on your own."

"Morgan..." she sighed, about to argue, but didn't have the heart. "Thanks," she whispered, "You don't know how much this means to me." She paused, collecting herself to sound more convincing, "But I'll be fine for a few hours."

"Are you sure?"

"Promise. Besides, I won't really be alone... They're running more tests today."

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say, because immediately his brows knit in concern. He was about to say something about not being able to leave her alone for that, but she saved him the trouble. "You can't stay. They need you on the case. Who'll kick down the doors if you aren't there?"

He smiled, believing that making jokes was a good sign. "Okay, but only if you promise me you'll phone me if anything happens, even if you just feel lonely."

She smiled gratefully. "I promise."

***

"How's Emily?" Garcia asked worriedly.

"Better than Jack, worse than..." Morgan trailed off, not sure how to end the metaphor. "How did you know?" He realized now that, in the midst of all the chaos, they had forgotten to keep Garcia in the loop.

"I was looking through the hospital admission records..."

He interrupted, "Why?"

"I thought that maybe, seeing as some of the stalking claims took place at the hospital, that there might be someone repeatedly checking into emergency around the time of the claims. I couldn't help but notice when Emily's name came up..."

"I'm sorry we forgot to let you know," he started to apologize.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind." He gave a mirthless noise of agreement. "How's Jack?" she added, "Still no marrow donor?"

"No," he said sadly, "I don't know what they're going to do... How Hotch is handling it, I have no idea..."

There was a moment of concerned silence and he could tell she was preparing herself for a delicate subject. "Morgan..." she said quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just been different lately, distant..."

"Have you been talking to Reid?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, why?" Garcia seemed genuinely confused by the question.

"I'm fine," he said off-handedly, brushing off the question. "Did you find something?" he attempted to reroute the conversation.

"Well, there wasn't any overlap on ER visits at the time of the claims, but there was a connection between everyone claiming to have been stalked by the African-American unsub... They all have AB negative blood and they're all waiting for an organ transplant."

***

The team was in the middle of giving a profile to the local law enforcement when something happened that they hadn't been expecting.

"We believe he thinks his victims..." Morgan started to say, stopping short when Emily attempted to surreptitiously sneak into the bullpen without interrupting the briefing. "He... Umm..." he tried to pull his mind back on track.

"We believe he thinks his victims are seeking him out; that however he first encounters them, they did so with the intent of meeting him," Hotch took over, giving him a slight nod, freeing him to go speak with her.

He lead her into the small room the police had given to them to set up shop. "What are you doing here?"

"They released me," she said simply.

"Well, I figured that much," he said, "But why?"

She looked about, making sure they were alone before whispering, "I told you, there's nothing they can do for me until a new heart becomes available. And I'm not counting on that happening any time soon, I'm not very high on the transplant list."

The rest of the team joined them then and anything else she might have had to say was lost. "Don't worry, I'm going to be fine, just as long as I don't over-exert myself."

"Good to have you back," Hotch said, "I've got a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get."

Morgan smiled, like the others, and subtly ran a hand up and down her back. But it was forced. He also had a bad feeling about this...

***

It was late in the evening; the murky, half-hearted semi-darkness filtering in through the narrow window matching the darkness weighing heavy in his heart.

He winced, seeing spots flash behind his eyes; his grip on the exam table tightened. He bit at his lip so hard he drew blood, but barely felt the pain. It paled in comparison to the agony of the bone drill piercing his hip.

The doctor eyed him curiously, obviously questioning his choice not to be put under, but he didn't say anything, having already interrogated him and gotten nowhere.

As much as he desperately wanted to be unconscious right now, he felt like the pain was something he deserved. And besides, he still had to get up and go to work tomorrow; going under general anesthesia was like getting drunk on the job.

He would still be in pain tomorrow, but it was still better than being semi-lucid. Mildly, he hoped that no one had come looking for him. After dropping Emily off at the hotel, he had said he needed to run a quick errand. Which wasn't really a lie, it was just a secret.

"How do you know little Jack?" the doctor asked.

"Oh, umm... I don't," he lied, "I just heard about his case and wanted to help."

"You must have one hell of a kind soul to be willing to donate marrow wide awake. I'm glad they finally found a compatible match for Jack, his family has really been through the wringer since he was diagnosed. Never once did he lose hope though, but his parents... They're really struggling."

"Well, I'm just glad I'm able to help in some small way."

"Oh, this is more than a small gesture, this is going to mean the world to them. Are you sure you don't want to leave your name so they can contact you?"

"No, I'd prefer to leave this anonymous."

"Of course." And then, the conversation was over. He couldn't have said anything further if he had wanted to, as the thick needle plunged into his iliac crest, sucking out the viscous red liquid, he was overwhelmed by the worst pain he could imagine.

A/N: By the way, we're sorry this took so long to get out... We've been having some technical difficulties lately, so production has been kinda slow. Just keep that in mind, because it might take awhile to get the next one out too. But we promise, it's totally worth the wait!


	12. Chapter 11

There was a knock on the door, in response to which Morgan called, "Come in, it's open." He had jammed it open slightly, just in case someone decided to check on him. He had planned ahead, knowing that the local anesthesia would wear off shortly and he was going to be very sore, very quickly, meaning he probably wouldn't be up for walking across the room to open the door.

He smiled when he saw Emily; she looked the happiest she had been in several days and his heart soared in the hopes that maybe she had finally gotten the call telling her there was a new heart waiting.

Shutting the door behind her, she said, "Did you hear? They found a marrow donor for Jack! Hotch just got the call, he's on his way to the hospital now."

"Oh really?" he faked surprise, "Do they know who the donor is?"

"No, just a really generous stranger." She stopped short when she saw him grimace in pain and press the ice tighter against his hip. "What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

"Nothing," he said quickly, "I'm just a little sore... Must be getting old." Even his smile at his own joke seemed weak. He wasn't sure if he had lied because he didn't want her to worry or because he didn't want his web of lies to unravel. "Come, sit with me," he said, very slowly and carefully shifting over on the bed to make room for her.

She gingerly sat down next to him, not wanting to aggravate his injury. There was a beat of silence for several minutes, filled by nothing but the muted sounds of the television and conversation from the next room. Morgan was the one to break it, quietly asking, "Why are you really here?"

She gave him a mirthless smile. "That obvious, huh?" She sighed and leaned back against the head-board. "I'm really happy for Jack, but... It just makes me think..."

He thought he knew what she was going to say, but decided to let her release what was no doubt an overflowing dam of emotions. He reached out to take her hand in his, a small comfort, but it was something.

"What's going to happen to me?" Her voice was barely a whisper, "There are kind strangers out there willing to give a part of themselves to save a dying child. But no one can just decide to give you their heart..." Her voice broke even more with a choked out sob. He had to strain to hear her next words. "No one would pick me to save if they could..."

******

In such a line of work, constantly surrounded by the worst of humanity, it is easy to forget to see the good in people. As he hugged his son before they put him under for the transplant, Hotch realized that he had forgotten to have faith in humanity, in people doing the right thing just for the sake of it.

And, after so many months of watching his son slowly slip away from him, he could hardly believe that it might really be all over. That he might be _cured_.

All because of the kindness of a total stranger.

As the porter wheeled the surgical gurney towards the OR, Jack smiled at him sleepily and gave him a thumbs up. A gesture Hotch returned, along with the smile. He thought he had forgotten how...

******

"Garcia, we need you to search the list of people in the Chicago area waiting for donor organs, including bone marrow," Rossi said into the phone.

"All organs?" she asked incredulously, "That list will be a hundred miles long!"

"Narrow it down to anyone with type AB blood," he stipulated.

"That's still a _lot _of names..."

"We've got to start somewhere..."

"What's this unsub getting from stalking people waiting for new organs?" Emily asked.

"Maybe he gets off on preying on those too weak to defend themselves," suggested Rossi.

"I don't think so," Morgan argued, "He hasn't hurt any of the people who claim to have seen him, he hasn't threatened them, he hasn't even made any contact, really."

"Isn't that sort of the point of stalking?" Reid pointed out, "The unsub doesn't have the courage to just blitz the victim so he lays in wait for vast amounts of time learning about them so he can be in total control of the situation when he finally does approach them."

Morgan shot him a warning look. "I think Emily and I should go back to the hospital," he said, changing the subject, "We don't really need all five of us going through the list. And we still need to speak with Maggie Williams' father; he's at the hospital undergoing dialysis."

Rossi nodded, though not without a moment's hesitation, considering what was going on. With that, they turned to leave. "If you see Hotch..." JJ started to say.

"We'll be sure to let you know how Jack's doing," Morgan preemptively replied. He covertly reached out to give Emily's hand a reassuring squeeze, knowing that the previous night's worries were still plaguing her.

She returned the pressure thankfully. How had she ever gotten through this without him?

A/N: Please read the message on my page... It explains why you're all probably thinking we're total n00bs who forgot about this story... It also explains why this will be the last update for awhile. Sorry :(


	13. Chapter 12

Emily had been pushing people away all her life. She pushed because it was easier, because it was kinder than asking other people to deal with her mortality.

For as long as she could remember, she'd known she didn't have long to live; she wasn't going to have the time to do all the things she should have been able to do with her life. But she'd come to terms with that a long time ago, she'd reconciled in her mind the fact that there wasn't going to be a new heart, that one day hers would just fail and that would be it.

It made her afraid to be close to anyone. She could handle the thought of her own imminent death, but it wasn't fair to force that on other people, everyone she loved and cared about. She was scared of how much it would hurt them.

It was why she let her relationship with her parents become strained, thinking that it would be easier to say goodbye than if they'd been close. It was why she couldn't keep her baby at fifteen or even put it up for adoption – someday that child would want to know where they'd come from and it wasn't fair to not be there to give answers.

It was why she'd never had a serious relationship. She didn't want to take that risk. She didn't want to fall in love knowing that they could never have happily ever after. Forever and ever, amen just wasn't in the cards for her. So, when she felt that things were getting too serious, she made excuses, looked for something to go wrong. It was never about him, it was always about her.

That was why she immersed herself in work – because it was safe. Sure, it might sting to lose her, but she was just a co-worker. But somewhere along the line, she'd lost sight of her boundaries and, for the first time, she'd allowed herself to get close.

She hadn't even realized it had happened, but in the past forty-eight hours, she'd shared more of herself with any one person than ever before.

...

"Are you sure you're okay?" Morgan asked quietly as they made their way to the dialysis ward, "I can do the interview alone, if you want..."

He knew she hated hospitals, now he knew why. He imagined having to be so intimately acquainted with your own mortality would be very disconcerting. And, seeing how the last interview hadn't gone so well, he almost wanted to tell her not to come with him. Then again, he didn't want to leave her alone – there was a little flood of panic when he didn't have to constant reassurance that she was alright. He wanted to be able to care for her should something happen, should she collapse again.

"I'm fine," she said, trying to put on an air of finality.

He sighed, "We're not going to go through this again, are we?" He stopped and grabbed her hand, forcing her to look at him. "I thought we were past all this. After the last few days, I just thought..."

"Morgan, can we please just not do this here?" she whispered, a combination of fear and sadness fighting to escape.

...

"Umm...guys?" Garcia said nervously; she wasn't exactly sure how to break the news.

"What's up, Garcia?" JJ asked. If the assembled team members noticed something off in the blonde tech's demeanour, they didn't say anything, merely waiting expectantly for what she had to say.

"I have the list of names you wanted... AB blood types waiting for donor organs."

"And?" Rossi urged. He'd been fighting the niggling voice at the back of his head this entire case, the one that kept telling him something very, very bad was about to happen.

Garcia bit at her lip for a moment, fighting an internal battle. "Well, I was scanning through it to see if there was anyone important who jumped out..." The looks on their faces were killing her – they were expecting some break in the case, some kind of good news...but that was far from what they were going to get. "It's..." But she couldn't bring herself to say the actual words. Instead, she brought the list up on the screen and waited for them to catch it. "See for yourselves..." she sighed.

It was silent for several moments as they scanned the list of names, searching for the one significant one out of hundreds. Reid, of course, saw it first, falling silent as things clicked into place in his mind. Rossi remained quietly pensive as the bad premonition grew stronger. JJ gave a small gasp, clapping her hand to her mouth in shock.

"Are you sure this is real?" JJ asked, desperately looking for some kind of explanation.

"I'm afraid so, sugar," Garcia replied sadly, "It looks like this isn't something new – end-stage heart failure because of a congenital defect... Did any of you know about this?"

She got only silence in response and she couldn't tell if they had actually been kept in the dark or if they were trying to spare her some horrible truth. Looking from one to the other, she studied them closely; she may not have been a profiler, but she had learned a thing or two about reading people and she could tell when someone was holding out on the truth.

"We can't say anything," JJ said softly after several long moments. She got several incredulous looks in response, but she didn't let them interrupt. "She has to have some reason for not wanting us to know – it's not our place to decide when she tells us."

They knew she was right, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with the fact that part of their family was slowly dying and they couldn't be trusted enough to know the truth...


	14. Chapter 13

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Mr. Williams said, croaky voice almost lost amid the various noises of the dialysis ward, "I'm sure you've got enough on your plates without having to go hunting me down."

"You don't have to apologize for something you couldn't possibly control," Morgan assured.

"I'm just so glad someone's looking for the man who did this to my Maggs," he said, a hint of tears choking his voice, "She was everything to me."

"We're very sorry for your loss," Emily said honestly, her eyes drawn to the machines supporting his slowly failing organs, obviously sympathizing with his plight.

Morgan barely heard as Emily began questioning Mr. Williams about his daughter. The sound of the dialysis pump filled his head like some kind of macabre metronome, overwhelming him with sorrow for this man's misfortune, having lost his daughter while very likely on his deathbed.

There was something about doing interviews in a hospital that felt wrong... It was one thing if they were speaking to a victim, but it was something else entirely when it was someone with no relation to the case other than knowing the victim. Especially if that person was undergoing treatment. It almost felt like they were intruding somehow.

Having to intrude on this family's grief as they dealt with the loss of a child and prepared for the possible death of a husband, Morgan was tempted to just walk away from this case and maybe never come back. He was tired of being _that _person...he wanted to go back to the way he used to be, in a time almost beyond memory. But at the same time, this life felt like a kind of penitence he owed the universe.

It wasn't all bad, though; this life had Emily in it and that made everything else, all the pain and suffering and weariness, seem worthwhile. Sometimes, he wanted to tell her to run away with him and they'd burn their bridges when they came to them. But he knew she'd never go, she was holding on to whatever measly life she was living because the second she released her grip on it, everything else went away, she'd have nothing left to shield her from her mortality.

He wished more than anything that he could be that shield, that he could protect her from everything. But the thing she needed protecting from was her own dying body...

Before he even knew he was going to speak, the words were already out of his mouth. "Your wife said you were trying to become foster parents before you were diagnosed." Emily shot him a quizzical look, but said nothing.

If Mr. Williams found the question odd, he made no indication. "Yeah; we weren't able to have any more children, but we wanted to give a better life to less fortunate kids. We'd already done some volunteer work in the shelters before Maggie was born, so we knew we wanted to help." The older man was silent for several moments, seemingly lost in thought. "Hopefully there will still be time..."

Morgan smiled tensely. I'm sure there will be."

Emily shot him that look he'd come to realize meant not to get someone's hopes up. That look killed him, knowing that her hope had died long ago, that she'd given up on the future. It wasn't fair.

But, if life had proven anything over and over again, it was that there's no such thing as fair. People who live sometimes deserve death. People who die sometimes deserve life. Good people fall ill and suffer, sometimes spending their whole life just wishing they would die so they wouldn't be in pain anymore.

Then again, he'd realized long ago that fairness was really just a myth.

...

Reid frowned when he saw the number flashing across the screen of his phone; she almost never called him if she could reach anyone else. "Is something wrong, Garcia?"

"You tell me..." she replied cryptically.

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.

"That's a load of bologna and we both know it," she challenged.

He still seemed legitimately confused. "Garcia, what..."

"You knew!" she interrupted, voice shrill.

"Oh..." She could practically hear him deflating slightly. "Well, I didn't really know..."

"Sweetie, I love you, but you're a _terrible _liar."

"Honestly," he insisted, "I didn't _know_ that it was Emily who had the condition, I just knew that somebody did...I just came to that conclusion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, a hint of disbelief leeching into her voice.

He let out an indignant breath, "Morgan called and asked what I knew about a heart condition called congenitally corrected transposition of the great arteries...he said he'd found someone who needed help. He'd been at the hospital with Emily all night, so it was only logical to assume..."

If anything, her tone became more suspicious at that, "How is he going to help? He's a good guy, but it's not like..."

"I didn't say..." he interrupted, flustered, "That's not what I meant!"

"Reid..."

"Garcia," he said seriously, "You can't know about this. Promise me you won't go digging..."

"But..."

"Promise me," he insisted, "This is important."

She sighed, defeated, "Fine, I promise."

...

"And I want to go to the zoo and I want to play football and I want to go to the park..."

"Slow down, buddy," Hotch laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh again; it was like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds after years of rain."We've got lots of time to do all those things." And, for the first time, those words didn't feel like a lie.

Jack's oncologist had just finished doing some tests and assured them that the transplant had taken, showing no signs of graft versus host, and that they would be able to go home in a few weeks. He'd have to be on immunosuppressants for the rest of his life, but it would be a normal, healthy life.

They couldn't have asked for better news, after the seemingly endless months of worry and pain, of uncertainty, this was like a thousand pounds lifted off their shoulders.

Already, Jack seemed to be doing so much better, he looked healthier, and already he had more energy than his parents could hope to keep up with. He was eager to get out of bed and go play. The fact that he couldn't leave isolation yet for fear of infection was a major inconvenience for the four year old who wanted nothing more than to go outside again.

All for the generosity of a stranger.

They'd asked the doctors for the name of the person who'd been so kind as to donate a part of themselves to save their son so they could thank them for a gift they couldn't possibly understand the magnitude of, only to find out the donor had asked to remain anonymous. It felt wrong not to have anyone to express their gratitude towards for having saved their son's life

The boy once again cut into Hotch's thoughts, saying seriously, "And I want you and mommy to be home more – I want to play with both of you."

There was something about a four year old boy who just wanted more time with his mommy and daddy that was just so...normal that it made him want to break down into tears of happiness.

"I think that can be arranged." He smiled and pulled his son into a tight hug to stem the tide of emotion clawing its way up his chest.

"Daddy," Jack said, flailing his arms, "Daddy, you're squishing me!"

"Sorry, buddy," he laughed, feeling like he hadn't understood true happiness until that moment.


	15. Chapter 14

Dejected, Morgan waited outside the cardiology offices as Emily spoke with the doctor about her tests. Two days ago, she wouldn't let him leave her side as doctor after doctor spoke with her and ran test after test. Today, she refused to let him into the office with her. And he had no idea what had changed...

If anything, they were closer now than they had been, he better understood her condition, and most importantly, he _wanted _to be in there with her. So, for the life of him, he couldn't understand what was wrong.

His phone rang and a passing nurse shot him a warning look. He flashed his badge and answered anyway, seeing it was Garcia.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

Rather taken aback by her greeting, even if it was said half jokingly, he was silent for a split second. "What?" he eventually asked, puzzled.

"If something was wrong, you'd tell me, right?" she asked.

"Of course I would, baby girl. You know I tell you everything."

"Then why didn't you mention the small matter of Emily's heart failing?" she shot back.

He frowned; she had a point. Ignoring the question of how she knew or how she knew he knew, he replied, "That's her secret to tell, not mine."

She said nothing for a moment and, in his mind's eye, he could see the decidedly worried look she got when she felt like her family needed her protection. "Sweetie, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," he said flatly, trying to make it seem like he believed those words as much to convince himself as to convince her.

"I want to _help _you," she said earnestly, "Please tell me what's wrong. We never talk anymore, you're shutting me out..."

He interrupted, "Garcia, I'm so sorry. Things have been a little...out of control lately." He chose his words carefully; he couldn't dump all of this on her, it would break her heart. "It's not something I wanted to burden you with."

"But..."

"No buts. Trust me when I say this is for the best." He knew her well enough to know that there was no way she was letting go so easily. "I'm serious," he preemptively cut her off, "This isn't something I want you to be a part of. But I promise you, I'll give you all the answers when the time comes."

She sighed in defeat. "Just promise me you'll tell me before you get into trouble, okay, sweet cheeks? I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

He gave a terse grimace, muttering under his breath, "I think it's a little late for that..."

He shut his eyes tightly and leaned his head back against the wall as he hung up. He felt terrible keeping things from her, he knew she felt hurt and he hated doing that to one of his best friends, but there were some things that were better off kept a secret.

Sighing, he dialled another number, hoping the nurse wasn't still watching. "Reid? I need to make some changes to the..."

"Morgan, stop!" Reid burst out and Morgan got the sense that he had been holding this back for a long time. "Let's be serious here for a minute, you're not really going through with this..."

"Yes," he said deliberately, "I am. And I need you to do what you promised me."

"I didn't think I was going to be helping you to..." Reid huffed.

Morgan shook his head. "Don't give me that, I told you _exactly_ what you were getting involved in. If you didn't think you would be able to do it, you should never have agreed."

"I thought I would be able to talk you out of it," Reid said aggravatedly, "I was trying to keep you safe."

"Nothing you can say is going to convince me. The time to back out was back then, when I could have found someone else. Now, I need you to make the changes, we don't have time to argue about this."

"You talk about it like it isn't a big deal! This isn't something you do everyday! You think this is easy for me!" he desperately tried to make Morgan see just how big a deal this was.

"Do what you promised me!"

...

Morgan insisted on walking Emily to her hotel room, despite her insistence that he not. All day, it seemed like she had been pushing him away, shutting him out. He didn't understand it.

The silence, the distance, was too much for him after the way they'd bonded the last few days, how close they'd become. He tried to make conversation, but she clearly wasn't interested in talking, her responses curt and clipped. She did her best to give him the cold shoulder, but he was persistent, unfazed by her silent treatment.

He waited with her as she unlocked her door, ignoring the pointed look she gave him, clearly telling him that he should leave. "Good night, Morgan," she said, attempting an air of finality as she tried to shut the door on him. She sounded weary, not that he could blame her, but it worried him nonetheless.

"Emily, wait," he said, holding a hand against her door to stop her from closing it.

Shutting her eyes, she sighed heavily, "What?" She stopped trying to close the door on him and he took that as a good sign, following her as she retreated into the room.

"Did I...do something wrong?" he asked slowly. "Because if I did, I'm sorry. Please, just tell me what it was so I can..."

She shook her head, holding up her hand to stem the flow of words. "It's not something you did. Please, just leave it alone – I don't want to talk about it."

He watched as her eyes shone with withheld tears, her voice taking on that hint of desperation it got when she was on the verge of breaking down. Even after everything they'd been through, she still didn't want him to see her cry.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed, "It's just me, nothing you do is gonna scare me off. You can tell me anything, you can cry if you need to."

She turned away before the tears came; he was not making this any easier. "Maybe it would have been better if you'd never found out the truth," she sniffled.

"No, don't say that," he said vehemently, "I'm glad you told me, I'm glad I could be there for you."

"I think it would be best if you left."

"Emily, please...just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it. Stop shutting me out." Now he was the one getting desperate – he couldn't just give up on everything that had changed between them.

"You want to know what's wrong?" she snapped, more acerbically than she'd intended, "You couldn't just leave well enough alone!" She started pacing, running a hand through her hair restlessly. "I was fine with things the way they were, I had everything working the way I wanted...but then you had to push. I kept you at a distance for a reason, the same reason I don't let _anyone _get close; it's not fair of me to let everyone I care about get hurt when...it happens. But I let my guard down and I let you in.

I should never have let that happen because now I have to push you away and it sucks. But it's for the best... You're the best friend I've ever had, the best friend I could have ever asked for; I don't want you to have to pick up the pieces. Just walk away now, before it gets any harder." The look in her eyes, swimming with tears, told him that it hurt her just as much to have to say those words as it hurt him having to hear them.

She turned away so she wouldn't have to watch him leave. "Just walk away and spare us both."

He couldn't let her do this, couldn't just walk away from her, she mattered too much. He quickly crossed the room and, with a hand on her shoulder, whirled her around to look her in the eye before pulling her into a kiss. It was breathless and needy and it was absolutely the truth.

She was stunned for a moment or two as his lips came crashing down on hers. It was a dichotomy between desperate, pleading almost, and tender. It meant something, probably more than any other kiss she'd ever had. She simultaneously wanted to hate him for making things so much more complicated, so much more difficult, and hold him close, never letting him go because she so badly wanted someone to be there with her during the low points she'd worked so hard to shield everyone from.

He pulled away after several long moments, gasping for air. "You can push me away all you want, but I am still going to be there for you. Nothing will ever change that. You mean too much to me to let you just walk away, I'm not going to let you do that."

At his bittersweet words, she could no longer hold back the tears she'd fought so hard to keep back, finally breaking down as he pulled her to him and let her cry on his shoulder. The dam finally broke, everything spilling forth, and it was the greatest feeling in the world to have someone there drowning right along with her.


	16. Chapter 15

He couldn't have said how long she cried in his arms – it could have been five minutes or five hours – but he didn't care. There was nowhere he had to be that was nearly so important.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaky as the tears faded into quiet hiccups. She lightly ran her hand over the damp patch where her tears had soaked through his shirt. "I shouldn't have broken down on you like that..."

"It's alright," he assured, "I'm just not used to women bursting into tears after I kiss them... I must be out of practice." It was an admittedly weak attempt at levity, but she laughed anyway, even if it felt forced.

She wiped away the last of her tears with the heel of her hand. "I should clean myself up...I probably look like a wreck."

_'You look beautiful,' _was what he wanted to tell her. And really, in his mind, even with her hair slightly mussed, eyes red, and make-up smudged, she still looked breathtaking. But the time to say such things had long since passed, if it had ever existed at all. As he heard the water in the bathroom running, he headed for the door; he knew things would get complicated if he stayed. But he lingered, not wanting to leave her alone.

With a deep breath, forcing himself to listen to his brain and not his heart, he put a hand in the door handle, but before he could follow through, he heard Emily quietly ask, "You're... You're leaving?" She sounded almost...hurt.

He turned around and plastered on an apologetic smile, knowing this was the smart thing to do. But, as he watched tears spring to her eyes again, he knew he wasn't going anywhere. He crossed the room quickly, before she could break down again, smudging away her tears with his thumb. "Don't cry," he soothed, holding her close.

"I don't want you to go..." she murmured, her voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back from his embrace slightly to look him in the eye. "Please, stay with me..."

His head was screaming at him that this was a _terrible _idea, that both of them were going to get hurt if he stayed. Honestly, though, his choice was make the second she asked – there was no way he could leave her now.

She determinedly choked back her tears, once again meeting his eyes, needing him to see how much it meant to her to have him standing by her side. But there weren't words that could possibly express just how much she needed him, how grateful she was for everything he'd done over the past few days. So, she did the only thing that felt right, leaning up to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

The minute he felt her lips meet his, he knew things were so far out of his control. Her kiss was gentle and tender, almost timidly so, a desperate plea for him to stay.

He wound a hand in her hair, gently keeping her in the kiss. It wasn't like the first time he'd kissed her, this one meant so much more, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He kept her clutched tightly against his chest, even as she broke the kiss, lips hovering over his cheek, breath hot on his skin. "Stay..." she quietly pleaded, "I need you..."

He nodded slowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat. "I'll stay," he managed to whisper, his voice sounding nothing like his own. He moved to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head, capturing his lips again; he didn't pull away, didn't stop her, even though his mind kept telling him that she was far too emotionally vulnerable to really know what she wanted.

But he'd wanted to kiss her for so long now and he didn't think he was strong enough to turn her away. He snapped back to reality as he felt her slightly trembling fingers at the buttons of his shirt. He pulled away, looking at her questioningly. "Em?" he murmured gently, "I don't know if..."

"It's okay," she said, and he wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince him or herself.

The hint of unsureness in her voice, whether real or imagined, was enough to make him pull away. "Maybe we shouldn't..." The look on her face was so crestfallen, it made his heart feel as if it were shrivelling up.

She turned away from him, arms crossed over her chest insecurely, sniffling quietly. "You don't know what it's like..." she whispered, "When you push everyone away, it's _so _lonely... And for the first time, I didn't have to be alone, for the first time, someone was there. I just thought..." She shook her head, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand. "I just thought I didn't have to be lonely tonight."

He felt horrible – she was reaching out to him and he'd turned away like it was nothing. "Emily..."

She turned back to look at him, fresh tears running down her face even as she brushed them away. "I'm so scared, Derek..." she said, "I'm scared that I'm going to die and I won't have known what it's like to be loved. I pushed everyone away, for their sake, but I have nothing left for me..."

"I'm here for you," he assured, "In any way you need..." He finally understood that this wasn't about sex, it was about her feeling like she'd had an impact on someone's life, like someone was going to remember her. It was about feeling like someone had loved her, like someone had cared enough to push back when she pushed them away.

Once again, he pulled her to him and kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears and feeling them under his palm as he cupped her cheek.

Pulling back, she bit at her lip and studied him, as if trying to discern whether he was only doing this because he thought it was what she wanted or if he actually wanted her. "I don't want you to do this out of pity..." she said softly.

"Emily, I've _never _pitied you," he said seriously, "I feel a lot of things towards you, but pity isn't one of them." He kissed her cheek, tender, but not. "If you want this, it's okay," he murmured, "I've thought about doing this for a long time..."

He began trailing kisses down her neck and she tilted her head to grant him better access, humming quietly in appreciation. After a moment, she couldn't resist asking, "You have?"

"Of course," he said, the sound vibrating against her skin, "There's a lot of things I've thought about doing with you... You're a very desirable woman, Emily Prentiss."

His words made her want to break down into tears all over again. But she wouldn't – couldn't – cry any more; she'd spent so much time wallowing in the prospect of dying alone and unloved, she didn't want to waste any more life on death.

Her fingers were still trembling as she attempted to unbutton her shirt, almost as if afraid that he would stop this if things moved too slowly. And when he stilled her hands, her heart skipped a beat, inexplicably crushed.

"Don't," he whispered, bringing his lips back to brush across hers lightly. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when he slowly took over unfastening her blouse. "Go slowly – I want to remember this."

She sighed, a sound half-way between happy and sad. He was such a good guy...she wasn't sure she'd done anything in her life that warranted having someone care so much about her. God, why couldn't she have reached out to him sooner? She'd spent so long battling her demons alone...and all this time, she could have had him at her side.

She shut her eyes tightly and tried to let go of everything, to just feel. She wanted to remember too, to hold on to the pure, untainted feeling of just love.

His hands were warm against her skin as he pushed her blouse away and almost immediately, she felt his eyes fall to the scar on her chest. She swallowed the lump that rose to her throat, trying to push away the insecurity bubbling up – she'd never let anyone see her scars before, both metaphorically and those physically marring her skin.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, lightly tracing his fingers down the red ridge of puckered skin.

"Pace...pacemaker," she stammered. She hated the scar, hated looking at the permanent reminder of her own impermanence. Her breath caught as he kissed the scar as if it might somehow ease her pain; for the first time, she didn't feel shame over the imperfection, like it wasn't hideous and repulsive, like it didn't really matter.

His hands roamed her body as if it were the last time he'd ever feel a woman's skin beneath his fingers. She felt like he saw her in a way she'd always wanted to be seen, but never really saw herself. It was like she was perfect in his eyes, like he didn't see all those things she hated about herself. And, as she bared heart and soul to him, she found that she didn't mind.

Apprehension melting away, she finally steadied her hands enough to remove his shirt, her palm instantly coming to rest on his heart. Unconsciously counting off the strong, steady beats in her mind, she imagined she could feel some of that life flooding up her arm, infusing her own weak pulse with vitality.

He gently lifted her into his arms to carefully set her down on the bed, almost as if afraid she'd break were he too rough. "You're beautiful," he murmured, once again kissing her pacemaker scar. "Stunning," his lips travelled across her skin, lavishing her with attention and love. "Perfect," his mouth finally came into contact with her breast and she gasped, feeling more alive that she could ever remember feeling.

She unconsciously tensed as she felt him slowly working on removing her pants and his already hesitant movement immediately stilled. "We can stop," he said.

She shook her head; there was no way she was letting go of this feeling, she needed this. Not trusting herself to speak, she silently encouraged him by undoing his belt.

Beyond that, things began to blur into a haze that was both deeply satisfying and disconcerting. All the feelings she was desperately trying to cling to were nothing more than husks of emotions and everything came in snatches of memories; their bodies moving together, the way he tended to her every need, the way he made her feel beautiful and loved. She wanted to hold on to it all and keep it close to her heart, a constant reminder of those fleeting moments when nothing mattered but them, when all the pain and worry and fear fell away, leaving only the good she'd spent her whole life searching for. She never wanted to lose that feeling.

But the tighter she tried to hang on to it, the more it seemed to slip away like sand through her fingers. She shut her eyes tightly as he pulled her close against his chest, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder as he intertwined their fingers, and she silently willed those perfect moments to wash over her again, to keep everything else at bay for just a little while longer.

...

She closed her eyes, listening to his heart beating strong and steady. It was bittersweet, strangely comforting, but also sending a pang of sadness rushing though her when she remembered that she didn't have a lot time left to cuddle with him and listen to his heartbeat.

The gentle caress of his fingers over the scar on her chest brought her out of her reverie. She smiled sadly; no one had ever touched her so softly and sweetly – it almost made her want to cry. "Can I ask you something?" he whispered softly.

"Yes."

"How'd you get into the FBI with your heart problem?" She was silent for a moment and he started to think maybe he'd crossed a line. "You don't have to answer that if you're not comfortable..."

"It's okay," she cut him off, "It's just...no one's ever cared..."

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "_I_ care."

"I know," she whispered. Sighing, she explained, "It wasn't that bad at first, it was only a problem when it came to severe exertion. The doctors didn't think it was a contraindication to the physical requirements of being an agent; it was mostly just desk work at that point anyway. Over time the vessels wore out and the need for a transplant became more urgent...but the job was all I had, it was the only real reason I had to keep fighting – I couldn't lose that or I'd lose everything. I made it out to be less of a problem than it really was so I wouldn't lose the job..."

"I'm sorry," he said lamely.

"Me too."

"You'll be okay. You'll get a new heart," he said determinedly.

"You don't know that, Derek," her voice broke a little.

"I _know_ you'll be okay." He kissed her tenderly, softly stroking her cheeks. "I need you to be okay..."

"Why?"

"I care about you, Em, you mean a lot to me. You're my best friend." Her heart melted at his words, but the tears that sprung to her eyes were not all happy tears. Why had she taken so long to let him in? Why did they have so little time left together?

She sighed tearfully. "I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that." He gently wiped away her tears with his thumb and smiled. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll be strong and happy... No matter what happens," he said gravely.

"I promise."


	17. Chapter 16

He hadn't planned on this happening, he hadn't planned on falling so hard.

If he were honest with himself, this was a long time coming and he really should have seen it. But he didn't want to be honest with himself. Because that would mean that he had gone ahead with what he was about to do despite it all.

At the same time, though, that was _why _he had to go ahead with it...

Emily shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer against his chest and he wanted nothing more than to hold on tight to her and never let go.

He gently trailed his fingers over her soft skin, pausing when he reached her pacemaker scar. Even despite her plight over the last several days, it hadn't really seemed real until the moment he laid eyes on that scar because that meant he couldn't deny it, couldn't pretend that everything was alright.

He remembered feeling her pulse beneath his lips as they'd made love, the way it would beat furiously then seem to skip for a split second; he'd tried to shut it out, to ignore it, just focusing on those perfect moments when he was with her, but he couldn't just shut off that nagging feeling that each beat could be her last.

He lightly pressed a kiss to her head, wishing they could stay in this perfect moment forever. And it really was perfect. Everything about it. He'd thought about this moment for so long, but no amount of thought could possibly capture just how right it felt when she was with him, the way his heart swelled with happiness, the way his entire world felt right, felt at peace with her in it.

If ever he'd had a reason to live, to continue fighting, she was it.

At the same time, though, she was the single best reason why he couldn't...

He'd give anything to see her safe and healthy because that was what you did for the people you love – you sacrifice. He wanted her to be able to have all the things she'd been hiding from her entire life, true love, a family, hope, all because she didn't think she'd be around long enough to enjoy them, to enjoy life. She'd been thinking about everyone else, about saving them the pain of loss, for so long, it was time someone thought about her and sparing her pain.

For so long now, he'd been waffling. The idea was there and he knew he had to go through with it, but it had always been a shadow, just a vague shape in the distance; it hadn't been real. Maybe, on some level, he hadn't wanted it to be real, waiting for a good reason not to let it happen.

But he knew now he couldn't wait any longer, he couldn't stand idly by when he could make a difference. He could give her the life she'd never had a chance to live...

He hugged her tightly, trying to memorize the way it felt to have her in his arms, the feel of her body pressed tightly to his, their two hearts beating together. If he'd known how little time they were going to have together, he wouldn't have waited four years for this, he would have made better use of the time they did have. He would have spent more time getting to know her for the amazing person she was, he would have found more excuses to hold her, he wouldn't have let so many moments to kiss her pass unheeded (and really, looking back, there had been so many wasted opportunities), he would have let himself admit that he loved her. He would have captured all the time they had and kept it close to his heart, so he could always carry a part of her with him.

It almost felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders to finally admit to himself that he loved her, even if he couldn't admit it to her. But he still couldn't say it out loud, like the minute those words hit the air, things would somehow be different. He didn't think he had the strength to follow through if he heard himself say those words, even if he already knew.

He kissed her softly again, murmuring against her skin, "I'm sorry."

As carefully as possible, he disentangled himself from her, trying not to wake her. He didn't want to see the look in her eyes when he left; the way she'd broken down when she thought he was leaving the night before had been enough to crack his heart in two, he didn't need to do that to her a second time...only this time, he couldn't stay. No matter how much he might want to.

The loss of her warmth as he climbed out of bed was like physically leaving behind a part of himself, like ripping out his heart. He didn't think he'd ever had to do anything so hard in his entire life.

He watched her sleeping as he dressed quickly and quietly. She was absolutely perfect and he just wished he could have been good enough to deserve her, to deserve her love...

For a split second as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he felt like he was reliving every memory he had of her, from the first time she'd walked into the BAU room and smiled at him to this very moment. He let it all wash over him, some of the best and worst memories of his life, all of them that little bit brighter for her having been there; his heart was both lifted and weighed heavily upon and he didn't know which power was stronger.

He paused at the door, looking back at her one last time. He couldn't be here with her when she woke up, couldn't share in the good news when she finally found out she was getting the heart she'd waited so long for, couldn't be at her side as she headed into surgery to calm her nerves. He couldn't be there to share the life that new heart gave her.

He didn't realize he was crying until the first tear fell and he turned away before this got any harder than it already was. As he softly shut the door behind him, hoping he didn't wake her, he hated fate for giving him the greatest happiness only when it was too late.


	18. Chapter 17

"It's time."

That was all that was said before he hung up the phone. For a few seconds, Reid stared at the phone in confusion and disbelief. Slowly, his sleep-addled brain absorbed what he meant...

_Now_.

He half-tumbled out of bed like a new-born giraffe, mind going too fast for the rest of his body to keep up. He didn't bother turning on any lights, partially because he didn't want to wake Rossi, still snoring in the other bed, partially because there simply wasn't time.

Sure that he would end up looking every bit the part of having gotten dressed in the dark, he grabbed anything within reach and pulled it on haphazardly, just hoping everything he picked belonged to him.

He debated who he should call first. The paramedics? No, he almost definitely called them himself. Hotch? A doctor? The transplant committee? A lawyer? Next of kin? He'd gone through this situation in his head a hundred times and still he found himself woefully unprepared.

But really, how were you ever supposed to prepare for this?

Still staring blankly at his phone as if waiting for it to give him some sort of sign, he hobbled awkwardly as he attempted to pull on a pair of pants, stumbling and nearly falling in the process. He cursed uncharacteristically as he banged his wrist on the side table while trying to catch himself.

Rossi gave a blearly mumble, rolling over in bed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep," he lied, cursing himself when his voice gave him away, sounding nothing like himself.

Rossi sat up in bed, turning on the bedside lamp and blinking quickly against the assault on his retinas. "Reid, what's happened?" he asked again, taking in the sight of the younger profiler's harried appearance.

For a minute or two, he seemed about to lie again, but deflated under Rossi's scrutinous gaze. "There's no time to explain," he said seriously, "I'll tell you on the way."

...

"911 emergency."

"I need an ambulance."

"What is the emergency?"

"There's been a suicide..."

"Who's the victim?"

"I am..."

...

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered under his breath, "I didn't think he'd really go through with it..."

"Reid, what the _hell _is going on?" Rossi asked, white-knuckling the dashboard as the SUV swerved between cars, the scant midnight traffic seemingly isolated to their path. He'd had a gut feeling that something was terribly wrong and the younger profiler's frantic behaviour was more than enough proof.

"I should never have agreed to get involved, I should have known..."

"Reid!" Rossi snapped, breaking him out of his distressed reverie. Reid turned to look at him momentarily, seeming like he'd only just realized he was there. "Kid, you look like you've seen a ghost... What the hell happened?"

"It's Morgan..."

...

The first thing he'd done was turn off his phone; he'd wanted to break it, like some kind of metaphor for what he was about to do and what he'd done, shattering his entire world. He could have handled just about anything right now, everything except Emily. Sooner or later, she was going to call, wondering where he'd gone – and he didn't think he was strong enough to handle that...she was the only one who'd ever been able to bring him to his knees like this.

He checked the knots for what seemed like the hundredth time. There would be only one shot at this, everything had to go exactly right.

All his planning, the searches, the heartache would finally all come to fruition tonight, it would be finally be over. A part of him was glad things were finally coming to an end, he was tired of playing with people's lives, he was tired of playing God.

But another part of him, a part that had grown over the last few days, wanted to cling to this life for everything he was worth and never let go. Maybe things could change, maybe things would get better... For the first time, he really felt like there was something worth keeping him here, something that lent enough light that he didn't feel so overwhelmed by darkness...

But time and time again, no matter which way he tried to work it out, there was no other way. He was the only person with the power to change things, to make things better.

And, if he didn't go through with it when he could change so many lives for the better, what kind of man was he? When push came to shove and things got down to the wire, the person that emerged was the one that mattered. And that person hadn't been one he was particularly proud of in the past.

Things had to change.

Too long, he'd been putting off doing the right thing...but he couldn't put it off anymore, there was too much at stake.

Asprin, DNR request, paramedics called – everything was in place. It was now or never.

"I'm sorry..."


	19. Chapter 18

"What do you mean he's committing suicide?" Rossi asked slowly, the idea refusing to permeate his brain. The Derek Morgan he'd come to know would never do something like that... But then again, he supposed he didn't really know him all that well.

"So he can donate his organs to seven deserving people," Reid repeated. Even for him, even for having known for months about the plan, this still felt surreal. "He's the second stalker, trying to find people with AB blood in need of a transplant who he feels are worthy, who will do something good with his 'gift'."

"What... But..." Rossi stammered, eventually settling on, "Why?"

The SUV took a sharp last-minute turn into the hospital parking lot. "He wouldn't tell me. I thought I could talk him out of it, that's why I agreed to coordinate the donations...but he just wouldn't listen!" The last several months had been plagued with doubt and blame; he felt like he was letting everyone down because he just couldn't change Morgan's mind. He felt like he'd personally signed his death warrant because he hadn't been more convincing.

His father, Elle, Gideon – people in his life always left. And he always felt like it was somehow his fault, like he could have done something to stop them, to save them. This time was different though, this time, he should have been able to fix things. It was like he was missing one last piece to a puzzle, he knew exactly what it looked like and how it fit, but without it, nothing was complete – he just couldn't make things come together without it. And someone's life hung in the balance.

"I couldn't save him..."

...

The shrill sound rending her almost-peaceful sleep was one that she never thought she'd hear. She made no move to attend to the noise at first, just letting it wash over her, drawing the implications slowly after it.

It was almost a full two minutes before the realization fully hit. She groped desperately at the bedside table, hand finally coming to rest on the shrieking pager. She shut her eyes tightly for a split second before reading it, scarcely daring to believe that this might really be happening.

She read the scrolling message three times before allowing herself to react. Her heart began pounding furiously, the words _new heart _echoing constantly in her head, keeping time to the fervent beats.

Still in a state of some combination of disbelief and shock, she reached over to the other side of the bed. "Morgan," she murmured softly, the faintest hint of happiness leeching into her quiet voice, "Morgan, wake up."

But she got no reply. Huffing slightly, silently cursing his ability to sleep through almost anything, she went to shake him awake. "Derek, I'm serious, wake..."

But his side of the bed was empty.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Derek?" she called out, every fibre of her being praying that he was still there. She just couldn't believe that he would have just up and left after the night they'd shared...he wasn't like that...

"Derek?" she called again, an unconscious hint of desperation bleeding into what she hoped was a steady tone. She felt the tears spring to her eyes unbidden, even as she tried to maintain her collected facade.

...

"Ms. Prentiss, please," the nurse held out her hand, clearly asking for her to hand over the phone, "We have to start the surgery _now_."

Emily's eyes swam with tears. "Please, just one more minute." She frantically dialled his number again, shutting her eyes tightly as she listened to it ring. "Derek, pick up," she whispered.

But it went straight to voicemail, just like every other time since her pager had first gone off with the news that a heart had become available.

She just couldn't believe that after the night they'd shared that he would just leave without so much as a word of explanation, a goodbye... That wasn't the Derek Morgan she knew; she thought she'd come to mean more to him than that, than just being some one-night stand – he certainly meant more to her.

Tears started to spill over at the thought that the time they'd spent together, letting him into the most fragile and frightening part of her life, making love, all of it had meant nothing to him.

"Ms. Prentiss, we have to put you under now," the nurse reminded.

Sniffling, she tried to force her tears to stay at bay. But the fact that Morgan wasn't at her side was just too much. Her last thoughts before the anesthesia overwhelmed her were of how the one person she wanted with her at this moment was nowhere to be found.

_This _was exactly why she didn't let anyone get close, why she kept everyone at a distance...she just never thought she'd be the one getting hurt.


	20. Chapter 19

The anesthesia was slow to wear off, leaving her feeling numb; she supposed that was best, though. She didn't want to remember...

For several moments upon regaining consciousness, she just lay there with her eyes closed, letting everything sink in. The first thing to emerge clearly from the drug-induced haze was the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. That's when it sunk in – she had a new heart. For the first time in her life, there wasn't the worry that each beat was going to be her last.

She gently brought her hand up to the bandage covering the stitches down her chest. Just like the first time she'd felt the pacemaker incision, it suddenly became overwhelmingly real.

"You shouldn't touch the incision," a quiet voice broke through her reverie, "You risk infecting it, considering that many hospitals are know hotspots for MRSA outbreaks."

She attempted a smile, but even that effort was exhausting. She turned her head towards the voice and slowly opened her eyes. "Reid..." she whispered, finding him waiting at her bedside.

She couldn't pretend that she wasn't disappointed that he was the one waiting for her to wake up. "Where's Morgan?" she asked, struggling to hold back her tears. More that anything, she'd wanted him to be there when she got out of surgery, holding her hand, waiting anxiously for her to open her eyes. She'd wanted his to be the first face she saw, she wanted to be able to celebrate her new life with him. She wanted the first thing she did to be to hug him and probably cry tears of happiness on his shoulder, she wanted to tell him how much it had meant to have him there with her these last few days, she wanted to tell him that he'd changed her life.

Reid opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He just shook his head and looked at her sadly.

"Is he here?" she asked again, voice breaking, "Please, I need to see him."

Reid shut his eyes as her eyes began to swim with tears; he couldn't help but think that the worst part of this whole ordeal was having to break the news. "Emily..." he said quietly, "He's not here..."

"Where is he?" Her heart – the new heart she was supposed to be revelling in the joy of having – pounded in her throat.

He said nothing, unable to bring himself to say the words. "I'm sorry," he whispered, handing her an envelope with her name in Morgan's handwriting.

She unconsciously held her breath, her hands shaking so much she could barely open the letter. Her brain tried to connect the dots, but she just didn't want to listen.

_Emily;_

_I'm sorry. _

_I know no amount of apologies or explanations can justify me leaving you without a word, not even a goodbye, but it had to be this way. I knew I would never be able to leave you if I saw the look in your eyes as I walked away. You mean too much to me. _

_Please believe me when I say leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. More than anything, I wanted to hold you and never let you go, but I knew I couldn't. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I never meant to cause you any pain. I wish more than anything that I could be there for you, to hold you and celebrate your second chance at life._

_When I began this...plan, I just wanted to change the lives of seven worthy people – I hadn't known you would be one of them. I never meant for you to find out this way. I wanted to keep this a secret from you forever, to spare you that dark side of my life, but I knew you had to know..._

_It all began when I was a cop in Chicago. My partner and I were on our way to a call when a car ran a red light and t-boned the cruiser. Everyone died immediately, except me. If only I had reacted a little faster, it would never have happened. I knew I had to make it right, to give seven people a new life for the seven I took away._

_I started doing this a year after Mama passed away. I wanted to do it after I recovered from my injuries years ago, but I couldn't put her though the pain of losing her son. She'd been through enough already. Sarah and Desiree were happily married and I knew it was time. _

_I'm sorry it had to be this way. But you needed a heart more than you needed me in your life. And I know you'll make the best use of my gift; I know you appreciate the value of life. I only wish I had deserved you. _

_But I would do it again if I had to..._

_I love you._

Looking up from the tear-stained paper, she felt like all the air had forcibly been sucked from her lungs. She brought her hand up to her chest, feeling her heart – _his_ heart – beating against her palm, just like their last night together.

She shook her head. "No..." she croaked out, her throat suddenly feeling very dry, "No, this can't be happening."

"Emily..." Reid said gently. He'd known she wasn't going to easily accept this, but he didn't know how to make her understand. He bit his lip as she began to cry harder; crying women made him very uncomfortable.

"He wouldn't just leave like this, he wouldn't do that to me – to us," she insisted. "Please, let me see him. This isn't funny anymore!"

"Emily," Reid tried again, "I'm sorry."

"No..." she shook her head in denial. "No. This must be some sort of sick joke. You guys just want to get me all worked up. Well, you won. Please, bring Derek in," she begged helplessly. "He wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't leave me without a word. How can you show someone you love her and then just walk away?"

"Emily, please," he sighed, "You just got out of surgery, you're not supposed to put stress on your heart." He knew this was just a part of the grieving process and that she had to get through it before she could accept what had happened. But that didn't make it any easier. He wished this job had been delegated to someone else, he wished JJ or Garcia could have been there with him to help comfort Emily, he wished none of this had ever happened. "Isn't it better that he died for a good cause, to save people's lives?" he asked, hoping to appeal to her reason.

Clearly, though, that had been the wrong thing to say. "This is not better!"

"You know how he is," he pressed on, "You know that he takes everything to heart." He winced at the unintentional slip of his tongue, seeing the pained look that crossed her face. "You know he blames himself for anything he thinks he could have stopped, that's just who he is."

"But why?" she sobbed, "Why did he have to die? Why now?" She sank back against her pillow, looking absolutely crushed. "God, why is this happening?"

"I... I don't have the answers..."

"This isn't true, right? Reid?" she asked, tearfully. "Please tell me this is just a horrible nightmare..."

"This _is_ real..."

"No. No, it's not," she insisted. "Prove it to me. I want to see him."

"Emily," Reid sighed, "It won't do you any good."

"If I don't see him, if I can't tell him I love him too, then this is just a dream," she stubbornly insisted. "This is only real when I see him. I won't believe a word you say otherwise."

"But I don't even know if they're finished with all the surgeries yet...or if the morgue will let you see him or..." She gave him a look that clearly said he should find out. He shut his eyes wearily. "I'll go talk to your nurse..."

...

Walking into the cold, silent morgue, every fibre of her being was urging her to run. If she never saw his body, she would never have to accept that what happened had actually _happened_. Yet, she knew she had to see him...for the last time. She had to say goodbye and tell him that she loved him.

She carefully studied his face, running her fingers over his features, remembering the way his eyes would sparkle when he smiled and the way he bit his lip when he was deep in his thoughts. There was no warmth, no strong and steady heartbeat under her palm when she rested her hand on his chest.

"Wake up," she whispered in a last desperate attempt to prove that it wasn't real, that he wasn't really dead.

Minutes passed and she patiently waited for his response, even though she knew it would never come. Finally, she gave up and accepted the fact that he was gone. "You are a cruel man, Derek Morgan. How do you expect me to be strong and happy without you around?" Tears ran down her cheeks, "How could you do this to me? You never even gave me a chance to say goodbye, to tell you I love you."

She almost wished she could be angry with him, could hate him for leaving. She gave a half-sob, half-laugh, "I was always so afraid of being close to anyone because they'd get hurt...and I finally let someone in and I was the one that got hurt."

A few of her tears landed on his face, making it look like he was crying too. "You were wrong..." she whispered, voice barely there. "I need you – I'd rather have you here," she squeezed his lifeless hand, "Than here," she absently ran her fingers over the stitches.

"I wish I could turn back time. I'd have let you in sooner, I'd have admitted that I liked you the very first time I saw you. I would never have let you go though with your plan," she sobbed quietly.

"Emily," Reid said gently, "We should go. You shouldn't be out of bed for too long, your body can't take it."

"One more minute." She leaned down and pressed one last kiss on his lifeless lips. "I love you. I'll never forget you."

As she made her way out of the morgue, she felt her heart break at the thought of leaving him, but she knew she had to make the best out of his gift. She had to be strong, because that was what he would want for her.

She just wished it was easier...


End file.
